


Trading Places

by spiralingintocontrol



Category: Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-03 01:32:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 50,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiralingintocontrol/pseuds/spiralingintocontrol
Summary: Alanna and Thom switch places... meaning *both* twins crossdress. Hilarity ensues.Contains age-appropriate prepubescent flirting so I tagged it as "F/M", but it's not really a romance fic.Written for NaNoWriMo and not really edited; also, this is my first fanfiction & my first fiction at all, so please be gentle.





	1. Chapter 1

Alanna threw the embroidery hoop against the stone wall. It fell to the ground with a clatter. "I can't _do_ this!" she cried.

Across the room, Thom looked up from the huge book he was studying. It was late afternoon on the Trebond estate, so he had dragged Alanna's table and second chair over into the slanting patch of sunlight on the western side of her room. He studied here often. Which meant he was around most times Alanna had a tantrum like this one.

His twin bounced out of her chair and paced around the room, muttering. "This is ridiculous. I don't know why Alys even gave me this. She _knows_ I'm awful at it. _I_ know I'm awful at it."

"I expect that is, in fact, exactly why she asked you to do this embroidery," Thom offered. "Usually practice is how one improves a skill."

"But I _hate_ it!" Alanna punched the stone wall next to her, then shook her hand out. "Ow. There's no point. How many hours am I going to have to spend in this misery before she'll let me stop?"

Just then, there was a quiet, unassuming knock at the door.

The twins looked at each other. Then Thom dove for the discarded hoop and tossed it to Alanna, who was ready to catch it, and sat immediately on her chair, trying her best to look like the picture of an obedient nobleman's daughter.

She didn't have much success. Her crimson hair was a mess, and she wore rough shirt and trousers rather than the expensive fashions expected of young noble ladies. Her fingers fumbled awkwardly trying to find the needle along the embroidery floss, which had gotten tangled with the fabric somewhere.

Thom, on the other hand, found his role a little easier to fit into -- at least, here in Alanna's room, he did. He wore a carefully tailored tunic and leggings, which were crisp but comfortable enough for him to sit and study for hours. His hair - the same unnatural deep red as Alanna's - was cut short. He looked down into his book most of the time, so anyone approaching him would not notice his bright violet eyes, which also matched his twin's.

A few moments after the twins settled into their new positions, frozen -- Alys was really politer than she needed to be to her pair of eleven-year-old charges -- Alys entered the room.

She surveyed the twins, who fiddled with their respective tasks in a thoroughly transparent attempt to pretend that was what they'd been doing all along. Alanna was staring at the embroidery with a ferocious intensity and stabbing the fabric every few seconds, which, from the apparently-random pattern of her movements, was certain to be making it worse. Meanwhile, Thom was pretending to read but subtly glancing at Alys and Alanna every few seconds.

"Well, hello there," she said brightly. "How are you two getting along?"

Alys was a servant in the Trebond household, who, in the absence of the twins' mother, had been assigned by the Lord of Trebond to teach his daughter to be a lady. She had no illusions about the prospects of actually achieving her task. Alanna was a stubborn child, with no talent whatsoever for most feminine arts, and moreover she was always conspiring at something with that infernal twin of hers. Thom, on the other hand, seemed sweet and obedient to your face, but Alys often had an uneasy feeling that he and his twin were up to something, unbeknownst to her. Both children had the Gift, which made her especially nervous. She knew that she had no real hope of controlling these noble children, when they were so far above her station and had mysterious powers beyond her ken (she made the sign of the Mother every time she thought about it), but for the sake of her job in the mansion she had to try. Her parents down in the village needed the extra income, though she would rather have stayed a milkmaid all her days, if it had been up to her.

So she tried her best with the children.

"Alanna," she said gently. "How is your needlework getting along? Why don't you take a break and show me?"

The girl reluctantly stopped her flurry of activity and handed the maid her embroidery hoop. "It's going just fine," Alanna said loftily. "Look at how many stitches I've made. Lots and lots."

There was a snort from across the room.

"I see that," said Alys soothingly. "But you really need to be more careful about _how _you do the stitches, Alanna, dear. Quantity isn't everything. You see here, where you made a stitch that doesn't fit into the rest of the pattern?" She knelt down next to Alanna and pointed.__

__Thom couldn't resist. "Alanna, making just _one_ wrong stitch? You ought to tell the priests, it's a miracle."_ _

__His sister glared daggers at him while Alys went on, having long since decided to ignore whatever weird things went on in the relationship between these two. "You see, Alanna, you have to have patience with these things. If you make the stitches too quickly, you'll make a mess of it. Most of the time is spent looking at the fabric, and carefully positioning the --"_ _

__"I _know_! I know!" Alanna exclaimed. "You've told me this hundreds of times before, Alys. It's just so _boring _I can't stand it. Look, I know this one is ruined. Let me do a new one. I'll do better this time."___ _

____Alys stood up. "Well, if you say so. I brought you a fresh hoop to start on another piece, so why don't you do that now. Your father asked me to tell him about your progress tomorrow, but I'm sure if you do a better job on this one, I can tell him you're doing very well."_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____When she was gone, the twins stared at each other again._ _ _ _

____"If she tells Father how badly I'm doing, I'll be confined to my quarters for _days_ ," Alanna moaned. "There's no way I can do this. My fingers are just too fat. I'll go crazy. I'll pitch myself out the window before I finish this. I'll be stuck in here embroidering until the day I die. I'll --"_ _ _ _

____"No you won't," said Thom, in a bored tone. "You'll whinge and moan about it for another hour or so, then you'll get me to finish it for you like you always do, and Alys will pretend she doesn't know I did it for you, and Father won't care anyway and you won't be confined to quarters and you can go out and do whatever stupid thing it is you do in the training yard with Coram. All right?"_ _ _ _

____Alanna stared at him. He flipped a page, casually._ _ _ _

____"What?"_ _ _ _

____She kept staring at him, then walked over to the table. "Nothing. You've just got a huge pimple on your forehead."_ _ _ _

____He punched her in the arm. Or tried to. She grabbed his arm before it could hit and twisted it. "Owowow! Let me go!"_ _ _ _

____"Oh, 'let me go,' now, is it?" she said sarcastically. "Why, it's almost like your fair sister is offended at your implication that you're the one pulling the weight in this family, seeing as she is stronger and better than you at _most_ things, and covers for _you_ constantly when you 'whinge and moan' for hours about archery and riding!" She let go._ _ _ _

____Thom fell out of his chair and scrambled up to a sitting position. He raised his hand and a small lightning bolt shot out and zapped her._ _ _ _

____"Yeek!" She jumped back and shook out her arm where it hit. "I really hate you, you know that?"_ _ _ _

____"I hate you too. Now give me your stupid hoop."_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____A few days later, the twins stood in their father's study, hands clasped behind their backs._ _ _ _

____Alanna had been wrangled into some kind of eldritch contraption that Alys referred to as a "dress" for this occasion, with several layers of stuff that was really too stiff and uncomfortable to be accurately described as "fabric." It was sort of like armor, if armor were used to protect the world against the wearer instead of the other way around._ _ _ _

____Thom was wearing his usual attire, but a bit fancier -- a finely embroidered tunic and leggings._ _ _ _

____In their fine clothes, they fit into place quite well in the study, a richly-appointed room lined with bookshelves and rugs. Their father spent most of his time here, and very little with his two children. The twins didn't know it, but this had been a change for Lord Trebond, when their mother died in childbirth. He had never been an extroverted man, exactly, but since the twins arrived, he had rarely left this room for anything more than sleep._ _ _ _

____His back was turned to them now. He had the same crimson hair that they did, pulled back into a long ponytail. That was about all they could see behind his chair._ _ _ _

____"Children," he said without preamble, still staring into a book. "Alys and Coram tell me that you are progressing in your studies, but soon they will have little left to teach you. As befits your station, you will soon need to leave this place for further study._ _ _ _

____"Thom, within the year, you will go to the court of King Roald in the capital city of Corus to become a page. You are my only son, and I expect you to perform well in this duty._ _ _ _

____"Alanna, you will go to a convent in the City of the Gods to study womanly arts. You are my only daughter, and I expect you to perform well in this duty._ _ _ _

____"You are dismissed."_ _ _ _

____They stood there for a moment. They were accustomed to their father's brevity, but this news struck them hard. The twins turned towards each other and saw the looks of terror on each other's faces. Then as if by some mysterious force, at the exact same time, the terror melted away, replaced by a grim determination._ _ _ _

____The two noble children marched out of the room in lockstep._ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____Alanna, Thom, and their adult escorts piled out of the coach. It was late summer now, some months after Lord Trebond told the twins that they would have to leave the Trebond estate, their childhood home, and go to places they hated to learn to fit roles that they hated even more. So now, they were traveling towards their respective dooms._ _ _ _

____Coram saw to the horses while Alys paid for their rooms at the inn, and Maude accompanied the twins up to their room with their things._ _ _ _

____Alanna and Thom glanced at each other, walking behind Maude. It was a questioning look: _Is now the time?_ It was quickly followed by a different look: a look of resolve. _Yes._ Now was the time._ _ _ _

____The twins had been waiting a long time for the right moment alone with Maude. They knew she was really in charge of this expedition, and likely the best target for their plan. Thom thought it would be easiest to just threaten her into doing whatever they wanted, but Alanna had finally persuaded him of the virtues of diplomacy — it would be less likely to result in Maude ratting them out, in any case._ _ _ _

____They were far enough from the Trebond manor now that no untoward gossip was likely to make it back to their father about their activities, yet still in Trebond lands, before the two of them would part ways. They had time enough to spare for any diplomacy necessary._ _ _ _

____Maude opened the door to their room. It was small but comfortable: a wooden table and chair, two small beds, and a fireplace in the corner. "Well! Not quite like what you're used to, but I'm sure it will suffice," she said briskly. Then she paused._ _ _ _

____Alanna shut the door, then came around to Maude's left side. Thom stood on her right._ _ _ _

____Maude had a sudden uneasy feeling, despite the fact that these were kids she had known and loved for most of their lives, and despite the fact that there were only two of them, that she was being surrounded._ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____"It would be difficult," said Maude, some time later, after the twins had explained their plan. She tapped her fingers on the table in a nervous pattern._ _ _ _

____"We know," Alanna said immediately. "But we can do it. We WILL do it."_ _ _ _

____"It can't be worse than having to be a page," said Thom._ _ _ _

____"Or a lady. We would be very careful," she added. "And once we've finished our education, we can tell everyone who we really are. They'll have to accept us then. Because we'll have finished."_ _ _ _

____Maude sighed deeply. "But what if you don't get that far?"_ _ _ _

____"We will," said Alanna with conviction._ _ _ _

____Thom shrugged. "What's the worst they can do to us, anyway?"_ _ _ _

____The old woman furrowed her brow and said nothing, but turned towards the window. This was just like the two of them. Stubborn to the end. They were so young, they couldn't imagine anything worse than being forced to do something they hated. Maude had been fortunate — she enjoyed being a village healer, and teaching Alanna and Thom, and had had plenty of time to care for her own children besides. But she had met many people, commoners especially, who had not fared so well. She did what she could for those in the village as a healer and as a friend, but her powers were limited._ _ _ _

____"Your father could disinherit you," she said gently. "You could be hurt. You could lose each other."_ _ _ _

____"We know that," said Thom. "We're not _stupid_."_ _ _ _

____"We won't get caught. We've planned ahead," Alanna explained. "You see, Father is short, so probably no one will notice that I'm shorter than the other boys, or that Thom is taller than the girls. I can bind my chest to keep anyone from seeing it. I've practiced," she added. "And I showed Thom how I make the bindings, so he can do the same thing in reverse if he needs to." Thom's face suddenly turned almost as red as his hair._ _ _ _

____Maude laughed despite herself. "But that's not the only thing you have to worry about. There are things that girls and boys must learn as they turn into men and women." She grew solemn. "Who will teach you, if you're hiding among those of the opposite sex?"_ _ _ _

____"We'll be fine," said Alanna firmly._ _ _ _

____"No."_ _ _ _

____Surprised, Alanna and Maude both looked over at Thom. He was sitting on a bed with his fists balled up. His face was dark._ _ _ _

____"No, we won't be fine," he repeated. "But that doesn't matter. We wouldn't be anyway. Look at us, Maude. What kind of a knight do you think I would make?" His voice turned bitter as he spoke. "You can't stop us from doing this, anyway. Coram and Alys are the only ones who can tell us apart, but they're afraid of our Gift. And you have to go back to the village once we reach the Trebond border. You may as well just accept it," he finished fiercely._ _ _ _

____"Thom!" his sister hissed. "Ixnay on the ets-thray!"_ _ _ _

____But Maude looked thoughtful. She absently twisted a piece of her gray hair. There was a long pause, then she said, "Help me build a fire."_ _ _ _

____The twins stared at her, then understood._ _ _ _

____They moved as one to the fireplace and the stack of kindling next to it._ _ _ _

____Thom broke off twigs from the stack until he had a little pile of tinder, while Alanna picked out smaller sticks. He placed the tinder behind the stones lining the hearth, and essayed a small flame from his palm to light it. His twin placed more small sticks on the tinder, until they caught. Then the two took turns feeding larger sticks to the fire, until it burned consistently. Finally Alanna lifted a log into the hearth, carefully dropping it and jumping back as sparks flew from where it hit._ _ _ _

____As they finished, Maude lifted herself out of her chair with some delicacy, then knelt in front of the fire, wadding up her skirts to soften the wooden floor under her knees._ _ _ _

____The children moved to let her by, but stayed close, watching the fire where she stared into it, though knowing they wouldn't see what she did._ _ _ _

____Maude had done this a few times before, when they were children, but Alanna and Thom remembered it well. She always came back from looking at the fire almost eerily sure of herself, as if what she saw there was more real than the world itself, giving her a divine kind of certainty. Alanna hated it; it was like Maude was cheating her of the chance to convince her herself._ _ _ _

____Thom always wondered what the world looked like through the fire. Did the Goddess speak to Maude? Or was it just a series of images? Or words, or feelings? He was determined to find out someday._ _ _ _

____But for now, he could only watch as Maude stared into the fire for long minutes._ _ _ _

____Finally, she blinked, sat back on her heels, and said, "I see."_ _ _ _

____She stood up one leg at a time, supporting herself on Alanna's proffered arm, and sat in the chair by the window._ _ _ _

____"You're right," she said. "There is no easy path to walk for either of you."_ _ _ _

____Maude sighed._ _ _ _

____"Yes. I'll help you switch places."_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____They told Coram of their intentions later that night. He didn't take much convincing. He was skeptical at first, but he'd been training the twins for years, and he knew Alanna would wither like an old flower indoors at the convent. And Thom would hardly last five minutes in training to be a page. Yes, Coram would go with Alanna to Corus, keep her secrets, and be her manservant, as he would have done for Thom if things were different._ _ _ _

____Their lady's maid, on the other hand, wasn't entirely on board._ _ _ _

____"Absolutely not! Completely ridiculous!" Alys folded her arms and looked out the coach window._ _ _ _

____No one said anything for a moment. The coach bumped and jostled on the dirt road._ _ _ _

____Maude shook her head. "Alys, this would be best for both of them. You know Alanna has no talent for womanly arts. She would be miserable at the convent, and Thom would be miserable in training to be a page. Don't you care for them?"_ _ _ _

____"I don't care for them enough to risk my employment in the Trebond house," Alys replied. "Lord Sir Alan pays me to teach his children, not indulge their fancies."_ _ _ _

____"It's not a fancy!" Alanna burst out, fidgeting in her seat. Maude put a hand on her shoulder._ _ _ _

____"It's easy enough for you. You don't have to go with them." Alys looked back at Maude, surrounded on either side by the two children in the crowded coach. She didn't want to say just how much she did not want to go to the convent with the irritating little boy, and pretend that he was a girl, under constant threat from his magical abilities and the fear of discovery. All she could say was, "They'll learn. It's not right for them to just skip past their difficulties."_ _ _ _

____"How long have you been working with these children?" the older woman snapped. "Do you see how hard that would be for them?"_ _ _ _

____Alanna tried to say something, but Maude, still looking across the coach at Alys, put a hand over her mouth. "Take some more time to think about it. We'll talk about it more later."_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____Maude caught Alys later that night, after they'd stopped at an inn. Alanna and Thom were safely in their room with Coram._ _ _ _

____It was a small inn; there was barely room for the five of them upstairs. Maude and Alys would be sharing a room, as usual. Downstairs there was a cramped dining room with a few crude tables and chairs, and a short bar._ _ _ _

____Alys sat by the fire, making the dim room a bit brighter with her appearance. Her dark hair was braided elaborately around her head, and she wore a bright blue overdress. Maude privately thought her mode of dress was rather ostentatious — the dyes she wore must have expended a substantial part of her salary — but it wasn't inappropriate for a young lady's maid._ _ _ _

____Or a lord's maid, she supposed._ _ _ _

____Maude made her way through the chairs and tables, yawning loudly as she did so. "Been a long day, eh?" she said, setting her freshly-acquired mug of beer on the table in front of Alys._ _ _ _

____The maid looked up from her own mug. "Yes," she said guardedly. "I suppose it has."_ _ _ _

____"You know," said Maude quietly, "you don't have to do this if you don't want to."_ _ _ _

____"But..." Understanding dawned on Alys's face. "No! How would I explain it to my lord of Trebond if I came back and you were gone? Besides, they need you in the village. No," she said firmly, "I'll have to go with Alanna to the convent, and that's all there is to it."_ _ _ _

____Maude studied her for a long moment._ _ _ _

____Alys took a sip from her mug so she wouldn't have to look at the old healing woman's penetrating stare._ _ _ _

____"What are you afraid of?" Maude said._ _ _ _

____The maid set down her mug. Her braids outlined her face in the fire's glow. "Being found out. Losing my post. Losing my prospects. And..." she cleared her throat. "I can't say I'd look forward to spending four years or more sneaking about for ..." she eyed Maude. "Well, sneaking about."_ _ _ _

____"For that right little bastard, is what you were going to say."_ _ _ _

____"You said it, not me."_ _ _ _

____The old woman kept staring at her. Alys privately thought that Maude should take better care with her appearance. She wore rough, undyed clothing, and left her long gray hair loose. The only sign of her prosperity was a small crystal she wore on a cord around her neck. She looked like a wild hedge witch._ _ _ _

____And now she was staring at Alys with an intensity that made the maid uncomfortable._ _ _ _

____"Alys Cooper," said the witch, "I have known you since you were a babe, and cared for you and yours for twice as long. I know you know that Lord Alan doesn't give a fig for what his children do, and your prospects for marriage certainly won't change if all this comes out. So that means this is really about Thom."_ _ _ _

____Alys hunched over her drink and shrugged awkwardly._ _ _ _

____"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," said Maude. "I can drop him off by himself. Not all girls come with maidservants, after all. I doubt Lord Alan would notice in the least."_ _ _ _

____Alys looked up with sudden hope in her eyes._ _ _ _

____"But," Maude said._ _ _ _

____The maid slumped back in her chair. It seemed her freedom would not come so easily._ _ _ _

____"But, listen to me. Alanna and Thom are both very serious about this. I think Thom would benefit from the guidance of someone older and wiser. Not me — you're right, I do need to go back to the village — but someone closer in age, who can help him with the difficulties of being a young lady. He looks up to you, you know."_ _ _ _

____Alys snorted. "Doubtful. Sometimes I think all he does is try to trick me into thinking Alanna did something right."_ _ _ _

____"Yes!" Maude held up her mug. "He cares about her!" The mug came down heavily. "And he cares about your opinion. He knows it's important for his sister. It'd be just as important for him if he were your charge instead."_ _ _ _

____Alys let her face drop to the table, covering her head with her arms. "I just want to go home."_ _ _ _

____"And you can," Maude said. "But on the condition that you give him a chance. This is important to him. I think you'll find Thom is an excellent pupil when he wants to be."_ _ _ _

____She stood up. "Good night, Alys. Try to be quiet when you come in."_ _ _ _

____The pile of braids and arms on the table made no reply._ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____In the darkness of their room, Thom and Alanna stared at each other's purple-tinted faces._ _ _ _

____"Good night, Alys," said Maude's tinny voice from the glowing ball of violet light that Thom balanced on his palm between them._ _ _ _

____Thom let it go out._ _ _ _

____In the blackness before his eyes adjusted, he heard Alanna whisper, "I think you have some work to do."_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____"Why should I ask Alys to come, anyway?" Thom grumbled to Alanna the next morning. "She's just a servant. She doesn't know anything _important_. I can just go to the convent by myself. Maude said so."_ _ _ _

____"I don't know," Alanna said slowly. "I think it might help for you to have someone around who knows about you. Someone who can help you... blend in?"_ _ _ _

____"I can blend in just fine!" he claimed. "We're _twins_. How hard could it be?"_ _ _ _

____Alanna shook her head slowly at her brother's foolish temptation of fate. "I don't know. Boys' clothes aren't so hard. I don't know if you could handle girls' clothes on your own, though. That's why noble ladies have maids, you know, to help them get in and out of those huge... dress things they wear."_ _ _ _

____"It's just clothes," Thom said scornfully. "I could do that easily."_ _ _ _

____Slowly, his sister started to grin. "Are you sure?"_ _ _ _

____"Very sure."_ _ _ _

____"Wanna bet?"_ _ _ _

____\---_ _ _ _

____Alys knocked impatiently at the children's door. "Master Thom! Mistress Alanna! It's time to go."_ _ _ _

____"Just one second. We're almost ready!" called Alanna's voice from within._ _ _ _

____She leaned against the wall. "Coram is getting the horses ready. You've missed breakfast already, how long can this--"_ _ _ _

____The door opened._ _ _ _

____Alys blinked._ _ _ _

____There was a pair of twins standing in front of her, sure enough. Two mops of red hair, one cut short, one shoulder-length, four violet eyes staring innocently up at her. For half a second, she was confused about why Alanna had put on skirts, so contrary to her normal custom. But then why had Thom worn such a rough tunic, when his usual custom was to softer fabrics? But a moment later, she realized what had happened, when the twin in women's garments turned to the other and said "See? I _told _you I could do it. She just got us mixed up."___ _ _ _

______It took the maid only a moment to regain her composure. Alys turned up her nose and said "Well! Your bliaut is on backwards, Thom. We're already on a late start this morning, so hurry up and fix it."_ _ _ _ _ _

______His sister laughed aloud and punched him in the arm. "You heard her, Thom! Get back in there. You owe me three coppers."_ _ _ _ _ _

______But her brother was staring at Alys, openmouthed. " _Backwards_? But how can you  
tell? It's the same--"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"It's fitted to the lines of the chest and back," she said briskly. "Can't you tell how impossible it is to move your arms?"_ _ _ _ _ _

______"I thought all women's clothing was impossible to move in!"_ _ _ _ _ _

______She laughed shortly. "Well, there's impossible and then there's impossible, isn't there? Come on now, we don't have all day."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"No," he said. His face was red. "First, tell me... tell me if there's anything else I got wrong."_ _ _ _ _ _

______She frowned._ _ _ _ _ _

______"Well, all right," she said grudgingly, "but it might take a minute. Let me use Alanna as a model, to show you how to do it right."_ _ _ _ _ _

______\---_ _ _ _ _ _

______Coram sat on the front of the coach with Maude, her skirts spread out on the bench beside him. The late morning sun shone through the trees; the two turned towards the inn to save their eyes._ _ _ _ _ _

______"That Alys is a stubborn one," he commented. "Wonder what's keepin' em."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"She is, isn't she?" said the healing woman. "Just like the Trebonds."_ _ _ _ _ _

______He laughed out loud. "That they are! Wonder if she has a bit of Trebond blood in her, after all, being a village girl from so far back."_ _ _ _ _ _

______"Hmm," was all Maude said._ _ _ _ _ _

______Some moments later, the door to the inn was flung open._ _ _ _ _ _

______It was Alys. Over her shift, she wore a bright red bliaut embroidered with tiny white flowers on the edges, an excessively lavish garment for someone of her station, and surely something she'd been saving for when she met the young noble ladies learning at the convent. Her head was held high. She had a red ribbon woven into her dark braids._ _ _ _ _ _

______She stepped aside and gestured to the twins._ _ _ _ _ _

______"May I present to you," Alys announced, "young Lord Alan and Lady Tamsin of Trebond."_ _ _ _ _ _

______Alanna and Thom stepped forward._ _ _ _ _ _

______Maude and Coram had seen them dressed up like this before, of course, on occasions when they were presented to their father or other dignitaries. Alanna usually struggled like a demon when she was put into the kind of confectionery dresses that were in fashion for young ladies these days. Thom, on the other hand, often looked hunched and uncomfortable in his tunics, as if he just couldn't take up enough space._ _ _ _ _ _

______Today, though, it was different. They were a mirror image of themselves. That is to say, Alanna stood on the right and Thom on the left, as usual._ _ _ _ _ _

______They wore the Trebond colors. Alanna wore a black tunic embroidered in red, with a red castle emblazoned across the front, with a matching crimson belt over black leggings. The orange-red hues matched her (and Thom's) hair almost exactly. Coram had cut her hair a few days ago, and it had grown out to look a little less hacked-off; it curled comfortably around her ears. She looked a little uncomfortable with the formality, fidgeting a bit as Alys announced them, but she stood tall, as inflated as a child her size could be by pride._ _ _ _ _ _

______Thom, stationed on her left side, was placid as a lake. He had held his skirts up carefully and crossed the dirt in front of the inn with small, precise movements, then relaxed and stood with his arms clasped in from of him. He wore a black bliaut over a white shift and leggings; it, too, was embroidered in the orange-red shade of his hair. But his hair, grown long over these past months (deliberately, Maude suddenly realized) was not in its customary ponytail, but brushed out into ringlets that hung down to his shoulders. Alys had framed his face with two small braids on the left and right side. His violet eyes were crinkled with a mixture of happiness and anxiety._ _ _ _ _ _

______Alys stood in a sketched half-curtsy, waiting, searching Maude's and Coram's faces. They were absolutely still for a moment._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then Coram broke into a broad grin, and clapped. "Goddess, what have ye done with them! A fine show indeed!" He jumped off the coach and ruffled Alanna's hair. "It suits ye well, lass! And you as well, lad," he added, more solemnly._ _ _ _ _ _

______Alanna laughed, and Thom, after exchanging a look with Alys, gave him a tiny nod in return. "Thank you, sir," he said softly, looking down as he spoke._ _ _ _ _ _

______Maude surveyed the scene as she used her arm to lever herself out of the coach seat, and gripped the side as she stepped down with care._ _ _ _ _ _

______She'd taught the twins to use their Gift, and given them what help she could. Now, the Goddess would have to watch over them in her place. She hoped it would be enough._ _ _ _ _ _


	2. Chapter 2

_Dearest Alan,_

_Well, I have arrived, and the convent is not as fine as I thought it would be._

_For one, the city is so_ crowded.

Alanna and Thom's party dispersed at the Trebond border, to go their separate ways. Thom threatened to set all present on fire if they ever so much as mentioned his tears at their parting. Alanna was in firm agreement, though her threats involved less magic and more sharp metal.

Thom and Alys traveled onward to the City of the Gods for another week. When they finally arrived, the walls were so high that Thom thought he must be dreaming.

"They certainly have a lot of gold to waste on masonry here," he remarked to Alys.

She pointed up at the walls. "See that?"

He squinted. "No."

"Those archers are the reason for the masonry. It's not a waste when you have to defend a place with your hands instead of witchcraft."

He waved his hand disdainfully. "How sad for them, then."

He'd gotten accustomed to wearing shifts and dresses every day since they left Coram and Alanna, and keeping them clean and cared for. When they entered the city's gates, he felt a sudden urge to clutch them tightly to his sides and lift them a foot off the ground. There were people everywhere, and they were all so _dirty_ and _loud_.

Thom was in a daze as they walked through the square. "Apples! Apples!" someone yelled. "Getcher pies here, meat pies, sweetbreads." The combined smells of shit, horses, and sausage made it hard to breathe. A dog ran right past him and he couldn't even muster the energy to pull his skirts away from its mangy paws; he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, staring at the back of Alys's shift and doing his best to blot out everything else.

"Care for a look at our fine jewelry, milady?" an old man asked, leaning down almost to his face. He froze. Alys pushed the man out of the way and said "No, she doesn't," pulling Thom along at a rapid clip.

\---

_The convent is called Mother of Mountains. It's not a very good name since there are no mountains anywhere nearby, but I suppose it's named after the Mother Goddess. At least it's quiet here._

Thom would never admit it, but he loved the convent's garden.

As they walked through the inner gates of the convent, he felt an overwhelming relief at leaving the sights and sounds of the city behind, followed by an overwhelming sense of wonder. The air was clear, smelling faintly of fallen leaves. The light was softer here, somehow warm. He looked up and saw that the sunlight was filtered through a curtain of yellow and orange leaves. Somehow, despite the lateness of the season, flowers bloomed in the ivy creeping across the inner walls, and in great bunches on either side of the path.

In the center of this resplendence stood an extravagantly tall stone building, several stories high, with a severely sloped roof and more glass window panes than Thom had ever seen in his life. The faint sounds of girls talking and laughing drifted out of the windows.

Homesickness rolled over him and washed into his feet, leaving him feeling drained. His sister's voice was not among them.

\---

 _Of course, I'm glad to be free of_ you. _My classmates are far more civilized than my twin; I doubt a single one of them has ever held a bow in her life._

"Come on in, come in, girls," Cunegund ordered. "No, don't sit in the back row. Come up here where I can see you. This is a small class, you stand no chance of escaping notice in any case. Come on."

First Daughter Cunegund was a small woman, but she more than made up for her unimposing stature with a military brusqueness. Her blonde hair was clipped to just below her ears, and she wore the same dark blue robe that all of the Daughters at the convent did, but with a golden pendant around her neck to show her status as the first among equals. Nearly equals, anyway.

The few students who had tried to sit in further rows of desks, Thom among them, reluctantly shuffled out of their seats and, with further verbal prodding, sat at the long table directly in front of Cunegund. Thom maneuvered into a seat at the far right end of the table, so he would only have to look at his classmates in one direction. There were six of them in total.

"Very good. Now then." She rapped on the table with her knuckles, making half the class jump. "You all know why you're here, do you not? You." She pointed at a dark-skinned girl halfway down the row. "Why are you here?"

"Just me, or all of us, ma'am?" replied the girl uncertainly. A few others giggled. Thom did not. It was a perfectly reasonable clarifying question.

"All of you. And tell us your name while you're at it."

The girl glanced around. "Well, er, my name is Rosemund of Goldenlake. And we're here because we have a magical Gift." She pronounced it with a subtle capital letter.

"Very good. You are here to train your Gift, which is why this class is so small. This kind of power is rare, and you should all feel very lucky to have been blessed with it by the Mother." She glared at them, as if rebuking them for insufficient gratitude. "Now, if I'm to teach you, I must first find out what each of you is able to do. Let's see..."

Thom's hand was up.

"Not now, Trebond. Let's start with you, Malven. Come up."

A girl with carefully-arranged auburn tresses daintily rose out of her chair and walked around the table at an easy pace.

"Tell everyone your name, first."

"I am Udara of Malven."

"Very well then, Udara of Malven. What's the most difficult piece of magic you know? And not the one that impresses your family and friends the most, either. Those are very different things, as you soon will learn in my class."

Udara frowned with thought. Even her frown was artful. "I suppose... I know how to make a very interesting illusion, but that's not really very difficult. I think the most difficult would be the spell for moving heat, simply because the control aspects are quite complex."

"Yes, yes, control is a point of trouble for many novices. Well, you'll show us, then. Hold on..." Cunegund rummaged around the piles of clutter on her desk, and came out with a brass inkwell. "Here's a demonstration piece. Freeze this ink."

Udara took it with two fingers and held it at arm's length, as if it had a disease. "Yes, ma'am," she said slowly. "I... I should be able to do that."

"Well, if you can't, girl, show us your illusion instead."

"No, I can!" she declared, and then concentrated. A blue glow surrounded the inkwell. Thom felt the table under his hands warm slightly. Suddenly she dropped it. It hit the stone floor with a _ping!_ and a few black shards of ice tumbled out of it. Udara sucked on her fingers.

Cunegund laughed out loud. "Ice is cold, Malven. Don't touch things when you're moving heat into or out of them." She waved a hand lazily, and the black ice drifted back into the inkwell, which righted itself and floated back onto her desk. "All right, go back to your seat. Trebond, fine, give your arm a rest. Come here."

Thom stood haughtily, arranging his skirts as he did so, and faced Cunegund.

"My name is Tamsin of Trebond. The most complex magic that I know is healing magic," he began, "since it requires both control and knowledge of the subject. This is in contrast to offensive magic, which is simple but requires large amounts of power, which is not difficult for one with my strength of Gift. I do know a few spells that are powerful enough to challenge even my limitations. However, I suspect they would not be suitable for demonstration purposes, as they are simply too dangerous for _most_ people to safely withstand, and might do harm to your office, ma'am. I would prefer to display my skill using an artistic demonstration, since this would require the most control and finesse of any spell that works without an ill subject, though it does not display the limits of my Gift. By your leave, ma'am, I can work a charm on this table that--"

"No," she interrupted. "Tell me more about your vast, truly vast, reserves of power." She was smirking.

"What--" Thom stumbled over his words. "What do you want to know?"

"Are they as wide as the ocean?" she mocked. "As tall as a tall tree?"

Thom said nothing.

"Let's find out," she said suddenly. "Class, let's take a little field trip."

\---

_Not to say that I'm worried about being surpassed by any of the girls here, or even the teachers. They say the Trebond Gift is the most powerful in all Tortall, and mine is certainly the greatest within these walls._

Most of the trees within the walls of the convent were fruit trees, eminently practical; a few of them bore apples, since it was fall, drooping with fruit that was almost perfectly ripe. But there were a few tall beeches here and there, and here, at the corner of a grassy clearing, was an ancient oak. Thom doubted he could reach around it with both hands if he tried.

The class gathered in a circle in the clearing. Cunegund pointed to the spot where Thom was to stand, right in front of the oak.

"There. Now, all of you," she addressed the class. "This oak tree has been here for a long time. When I was a girl studying here, First Daughter Enndolynn told me that it had been here as long as she could remember, and the First Daughter when _she_ was here told her the same thing. It holds a special significance to us, because it holds a gift from the Great Mother Goddess.

"There is a disease that spreads through oak trees, which has infested this one. See the white spots here, and here." She pointed. "Though the tree is old, if it were healed of the disease, it could live a little longer.

She turned to Thom. "You, Tamsin of Trebond. You said you were acquainted with healing magic, didn't you?"

Thom swallowed. "Yes, ma'am."

"Healing a living thing of the size of this tree is as complex as any other living being, but requires more power by far. None of the Daughters here can pull it off. I've tried myself, but I didn't get far and it knocked me off my feet for weeks. But," she breezed on as if it didn't matter that she, an experienced mage, had tried this and failed, "the Trebond Gift is legendary, as we all know, so I expect you'll have no trouble at all. As long as you remember your healing, that is. I'll watch out for you, and worst case, you miss a bit of classes that would have been review for you in any case, eh?"

Thom could only nod. There was really no other choice at this point.

"Well then!" She clapped her hands. "At your leisure. No need to rush."

Thom faced the tree.

He thought, _This woman is a maniac. Why did I ever come here?_

Then he thought, _This is the greatest challenge I've ever faced. She sized me up in one minute and gave me the opportunity to do something harder than I've ever done. This is incredible._

He thought, _I'll never get another opportunity to study with someone like her in my life. I_ can't _fail at this._

He took a deep breath, and _pushed_.

Cunegund and the five girls watched as the last student pressed his hand against the tree. They couldn't see it from this side, but his eyes were closed.

The First Daughter closed her own eyes as well, to see with her second sight what Thom was doing.

He was methodically pushing out small tendrils of purple fire into the tree -- at first, just feeling through its internal structure. The oak was solid, dense, difficult to even push through to investigate; as Thom moved his magic through it, he found it easier to slip sideways through the rings, until he found the source of the illness. It was a crackling dark spot on his magical vision, clearly malevolent, and he directed his will to burn it out. He felt a twinge of pain as he strained his Gift against it.

Cunegund's eyes flew open. "Stop!" she yelped, a second too late. _Boom!_ The sound of an explosion rocked the grove, followed by a patter of twigs and leaves falling to the ground.

The five girls uncovered their ears and stood up cautiously a moment later, glancing around for danger. Their red-haired classmate had turned back to them, standing before the oak tree, her hands clasped in dangling yellow sleeves. The top of her head and sleeves were dusted in black powder. Soot.

Behind her, the oak tree had turned black. The disease-spots were no longer visible, but the tree was _charred_ , as far up the trunk as they could see.

Thom looked at his five classmates staring back at him. Arrayed in the clearing in brightly-colored dresses, they looked strangely out of place, now. They trembled at what had just happened. He saw, in their eyes, what he had been hoping to see: fear, and awe. They knew now what power he held, and though they might pretend otherwise, they would not forget it. He swelled with pride.

Their teacher folded her arms. "Well, well, well. I've always wanted to see the famous Trebond Gift. Suppose I should've been more careful what I wished for." The tension went out of the moment instantly. Thom's classmates giggled, in the way that people who have had a shock will laugh at just about anything.

"You've cured the disease," Cunegund went on, "but injured the tree. Fortunately, it's strong enough to take quite a bit, so with luck, you won't have reduced its lifespan by much. Now that we've seen what parts of control you still need to work on, let's get back to class."

The blonde woman turned and headed for the building. Most of his classmates followed, throwing disdainful looks back at Thom. The small dark-skinned girl -- what was her name? Rosemund? -- paused to stare at Thom with her orange eyes. "That was amazing!" she hissed excitedly. "You'll have to show me how you did it sometime."

Thom opened his mouth to say something outraged -- great mages don't give out their secrets! -- but she darted away before he got the chance. He was alone in the clearing with the oak he had damaged.

He exhaled.

Then he walked slowly back through the trees.

\---

_Classes are going very well. The teachers know that my Gift is the best in the group. Best of all, I think the other girls are all afraid of me by now. As they should be, all things considered._

_It's not that I mislike them, you understand, but it's important that they know their place._

_Anyway, the classes here are odder than I expected. There's Daughter Dureen, who teaches us sewing and weaving, and others who teach us deportment, etiquette, and management of a fief -- mathematics and so on. That's all what I thought would happen. I was surprised to learn, however, that we have a tactics class here after all. I suppose I haven't entirely managed to avoid the burdens of knighthood._

_Lady Josselyn of Veldine is our teacher. She says that in the world we live in, even women must know the ways of war if they're to survive; not to fight, necessarily, but to withstand siege, to heal the wounded, and to move words and people around to prevent fighting._

_I said the obvious, of course: why not just be the strongest in any confrontation, and avoid the need for all that? She didn't have a good answer._

_I hope your schooling in hitting people with sticks is going well. The Trebond blood makes us good at whatever we choose to do, even if we make ridiculous choices such as yours, so I expect you are doing fine._

_Sincerely,_

_Your sister, Tamsin of Trebond_

Alanna folded up the letter. It was still strange to receive letters from her "sister" addressed to "Alan." But then, everything had been strange and new in her first months at school.

Even their training had been hard -- Alanna was used to being better at everything than her brother Thom, who was the same size as her, but now she had to struggle to keep up with larger and stronger boys. She was exhausted. But she was also happier than she had been in her life. She grew stronger every day.

"So, what did your sister say?" asked her friend Gary, as he saw her finish reading. "Any juicy gossip from the City of the Gods? I heard Ralon's sister Udara is there."

"No, no gossip," said Alanna. "Just some talk about classes." She sighed. Ralon of Malven had been harassing her after classes every chance he got; it might have been useful to hear about any relatives he had. Thom was too self-absorbed to tell her anything much about his classmates. Of course, she would never air her grievances about her twin in front of others.

\---

"Oh, my brother is all right, I suppose," Thom said airily. "Not much up here," he tapped the side of his head, "but he's good with..." he waved a hand. " _Physical_ stuff."

"Interesting," said the other girl, "but I asked if he had the same _Gift_ you do. You're twins, aren't you?"

It was early morning, and part of the class had been set to weeding a patch of garden on the convent's grounds. Thom was there, as was Rosemund, and a few other girls he didn't know the names of. The one who asked him about his Gift was called something with an R, he thought.

Thom leaned down to examine a grassy reed. "Well, I suppose he has similar power," he replied, "but it's not worth much without practice. He hates magic. All he cares about is learning to stick people with pointy things."

Behind him, Rosemund giggled. She had an annoying habit of doing that at most things Thom said.

"Yes, well," said something-with-an-R, dismissively. " _Boys_ are like that. Mirabelle, do you think this ivy is supposed to be planted here?"

Thom turned further away from the other girl so she couldn't see his face flushing, as Mirabelle replied, "I'm not sure. You're better at identifying these things than me, Rowena... I don't think I can tell an ivy from a creeper, to tell you the truth."

"That's because they're the same thing, Mirabelle."

"Not all boys are like that," Thom burst out.

"Oh?" Rowena put a hand on her hip. "Which one would that be, then?"

Thom closed his mouth firmly and bent over, pretending to look at plants.

"Ooh, she won't say! Sounds to me like _someone_ has a crush. Wouldn't you agree, Mirabelle?"

"Why yes, I think it does sound like that."

"I wonder where she even found him."

"Maybe she's been leaving the convent at night to meet with him in secret!"

"A daring, forbidden love! First Daughter would have a fit if she found out, though," Rowena mused.

"Oh, leave her alone," snapped Rosemund. "She doesn't have to tell you who it is if she doesn't want to. If there even is anyone."

Thom stood up suddenly and faced her. "Stay out of this, Goldenlake!"

The girl backed up, clearly shocked. "If... if you say so, Tamsin."

Rowena and Mirabelle sniggered.

"And you two. Leave me alone or I'll strike you with lightning."

"You wouldn't dare," Mirabelle said uncertainly.

But they went back to their work.

\---

_Dearest Alan,_

_My power continues to grow, and the foolish children I have to suffer the company of are troubled by it. They try to scare me, but it's pointless. They'll see the error of their ways soon enough._

_"Make friends." It's a nice suggestion, brother, but I don't think you understand the realities of the world we live in._

As the months passed, things only got worse for Thom with Rowena and her friends. They elbowed him when they passed in the hallways, giggled when he walked by, and made loud comments about "Tamsin's _boyfriend_ in the city."

Udara had even taken to interfering with his concentration whenever he cast spells in Cunegund's class. The First Daughter scolded her every time she noticed it happening, but she couldn't catch her every time. Thom was still ahead of most of the class, but was bitterly frustrated by his lack of progress.

Thom was on edge. So when he felt a tap on his shoulder one day while filing out of Cunegund's class, he whirled around with a fearsome expression. " _What--_ Oh, it's just you," he said, disgusted.

Rosemund ducked her head. "I suppose so. May I speak with you for a moment?"

He looked her up and down, trying to gauge her intentions. "All right," he said finally. "Let's go out to the garden."

It was a brilliantly sunny spring day. The weather was still cool, but there was a smell of wet earth in the air. Rosemund's hair, in tight, dark spirals around her head, lit up like glowing embers as soon as they emerged from the shadow of the doorway. They walked away from the building along the path, between bare trees with just the hint of new buds.

"You don't ever go to the city, do you?" she asked.

Thom looked up at the clear blue sky. "No."

"But the other girls do, on the weekends, sometimes. To shop, or just to see the sights. Talk to people. Even I go, when the Daughters have time to escort us, since I don't have a maidservant. You could go anytime, but you don't."

"Is this what you wanted to talk to me about?" he said flatly.

"Not... exactly." She placed a hand on his shoulder, which stiffened. "Look, I just wanted to talk to you about things, girl-to-girl, all right? I know you don't have a boyfriend in the city. That's just what Rowena figured out would bother you the most."

He pulled away. "You're right. It does bother me. So leave me alone."

"Wait! I don't... I just wanted to talk to you about it. Give you some advice, maybe. I can help you with the other girls. I know you don't get along with them, but I think they would leave you alone if you just were a little more cooperative. I mean, you're a great mage, we all know that, but if you helped them a little I'm sure -- You could --" The words were tumbling out of her mouth and Tamsin was still walking away, getting further and further. She ran ahead and grabbed her arm. "Just _listen_ , would you--"

Almost as soon as she touched Tamsin, she stopped dead and pulled her hand away with a yelp of pain. Her palm was red and blistered.

"Don't ever touch me without my permission again," her classmate hissed with venom in her voice, and stormed away.

Rosemund let loose a cry of frustration, and wrung out her hand with a shake. "I was just trying to help," she said to the trees.


	3. Chapter 3

_Dear Tamsin,_

_I wish I could have written you sooner, but they keep us absurdly busy here. Between classes, homework, chores, and dealing with... some other things, I've hardly had time to sleep, let alone write letters and find someone willing to carry them for me._

_The other things are not so great. There's this boy. His name is Ralon of Malven. I don't know why he hates me so much, but he sure does, and he takes every opportunity he can to hurt me. I don't know how much longer this can go on before I have to do something about it. If I let someone like him get the best of me, I'm no knight at all._

_But I have a plan. I met someone in the city who I think can help me. His name is George Cooper. He's a good friend, and well-connected. As a matter of fact, I think he'll be able to help us carry letters more safely sometime soon. And he's going to teach me to beat Malven._

Thom sighed and put down the letter. He wished he had someone to teach him how to beat Rowena. He had a plan, but he was so unsure that it would work. Even a word of guidance from Alanna would have been welcome at this point, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her he was having worse trouble with bullies than she was. Besides, a letter could only hold so much, and they took two months to make a round trip from Mother of Mountains to the palace...

All he had were pests, buzzing around him exactly when they were least wanted. Like now.

"So, how is Alanna?" inquired Alys. "Is palace life treating her well?"

"Don't call my... brother that!" Thom retorted. "The walls have ears, you know."

The maid made a show of looking up from her sewing, and moving her head all around to take in the entire room. It wasn't much to speak of -- four stone walls, a narrow bedframe on which Alys perched, a window, a single table and chair on which Thom sat. "No, I don't believe they do," she pronounced. "No detached human ears visible on any surface. How is your sister?"

Thom rolled his eyes, and gave up. "Fine. She has plenty of friends, as usual. Meeting lots of new people in the city. Some George Cooper, perhaps he's one of your relations."

Thom glanced over. Alys's hands had frozen, needle in hand. She looked at him wide-eyed. "George Cooper?"

"Yes, do you know him? She said he was going to help her with... something. And that they're friends."

After a moment, Alys relaxed. "Yes, he's a... distant cousin of mine. Very distant. That's very interesting. I hope they get along well."

"I... hope so too," said Thom. He was puzzled, but decided that his maid's common-born cousin couldn't be that important. "In any case, Alys, I need my room to myself for a while."

The dark-haired woman put her sewing to one side on the bed. "I've been meaning to talk to you about that, Thom."

" _Have_ you now." The boy crossed his arms, tangling the draping sleeves of his overdress.

"You've been acting oddly lately," she said, putting as much care in her voice as she could. "More oddly than usual for you, I mean. And you haven't made friends here. Is ... I shouldn't ask you if something is amiss, I've seen what's going on. I know. But you know, I'm happy to help in any way that I can. You shouldn't--"

"The best way you can help is by _leaving,_ now." Thom stood up. His bright red hair began to float slightly above his shoulders, suffused with a faint violet glow. "Don't make me ask you again, Alys."

"Fine! Fine!" she said quickly. "I'm going!" She grabbed her pile of fabric and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

The boy breathed a sigh of relief and started towards the chest under his desk, when there was a knock on the door. He balled his fists up and went to answer it.

He peeked out. It was Rosemund. Pests indeed.

"Tamsin," she said, "I need to talk to you."

He started to close the door.

"WaityouhavetotalktomeIknowyoursecret!"

"I don't have any secrets." The wooden bar shifted across the doorframe with a "shrump".

A ball of yellow mage light squeezed itself through the gap in the doorframe, and floated up to eye level. "Yes you do," the ball whispered. " _Thom_."

\---

Rosemund casually swung her legs back and forth as they dangled over the edge of Thom's bed. "Nice room you have here."

"It's exactly the same as all the other rooms," Thom snapped. " _How_."

"Wasn't hard, with you talking about it all the time in here with your maid," she said lightly. "You really should have put your foot down with her. The walls do have ears, after all."

Thom groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Fine. Wonderful. The entire convent knows about me, I'll be strung up in the town square, the only reason they haven't kicked me out is so they can watch me suffer and laugh. What do _you_ want, then?"

"Oh, I shouldn't think everyone knows," she said cheerfully. "The older girls don't know who you are because you keep to yourself, and no one else in our class can cast the listening spell. You really don't pay much attention to what other people do in Cunegund's class, do you?"

"Why should I?" he groused. "It's not like it matters. I'm better than all of them anyway."

"Because of ... situations exactly like this one?" She cocked her head to the side.

He sputtered. "I-- you-- that's not important! What's important here is what the hell do you want from me, and get out of my room."

Her face fell. "Well, if you're going to be like that, I suppose I'd better get to the point. I know you're planning something. I want in."

His face twisted in an strangled imitation of innocence. "Planning something?"

"Don't play dumb. Something to make Rowena regret what they're doing to you. I've heard you puttering around in here and muttering about 'they'll see, they'll all see.'"

"Let me get this straight," Thom said. "You're threatening to tell people my secrets, to get you to tell me even _more_ of my secrets? Is that's what's happening here? How big of an idiot do you think I am?"

She shrugged. "Pretty big. Besides, you don't really have a choice. I can out you to everyone, remember?"

She tried to keep her tone light, hoping he wouldn't notice that she was bluffing. She doubted she could really bring herself to tell everyone Tamsin's secret and ruin her life. She, he, was just too interesting to be allowed to leave the convent. But Tamsin didn't need to know that. And after the conversations they'd had, Rosemund had a suspicion that Tamsin/Thom wouldn't notice someone being nice to her if the Goddess herself descended from the sky and said so, so she wasn't too worried.

Sure enough, Thom advanced on her, hands crackling with barely-suppressed magical energy, then stopped himself with an obvious effort, tightening his hands into fists. " _Fine._ "

He reached past her under his bed, and drew out a small wooden chest with a heavy brass lock. "Look away for this part. You're not going to get _all_ my secrets."

She narrowed her eyebrows, then relented. "I suppose when a boy asks a girl for modesty, she must accede to his request." She crossed her legs and turned to face the wall on the bed, catching just a glimpse of Tamsin's bright red face as she did so.

She heard muttering (some of it involving "stupid foolish horrid twit of a girl", some of it of a more arcane variety), faint crackling sounds, the click of a key in a lock, and the swishing of Tamsin's dress behind her.

"All right. Turn around," came the voice.

Rosemund turned and felt a chill go down her spine. Arrayed on the table were five surprisingly lifelike miniature human figures. The chest sat open next to them.

One of them looked like her, down to the orange-bead eyes.

"But voodoo dolls aren't real," she blurted out. "They're just a myth, a superstitious old folkway. You can't... I mean. They're for _killing_ people. You..." She looked up at Tamsin's face. The boy/girl was smiling.

"I'm not going to _kill_ anyone," he said, tossing his head. His curls flew up and re-settled around his shoulders. "Just give them some very keen regrets."

Rosemund was beginning to get a very bad feeling about this. "What kind of regrets?"

He shrugged. "I was thinking baldness, for a start."

"Tamsin!" Her hands flew over her mouth. "You wouldn't --"

"Why not? It's not like they'd balk at doing it to me if they could."

She was torn. She wanted to laugh, but she also couldn't fathom how obviously, unutterably, incredibly _stupid_ this was. Thom's plan was like using a sword to pop someone else's zit -- it wasn't all that bad by itself, but the level of threat compared to the actual effect was just absurd. "You're aware that you're probably breaking at least ten different sorcery laws by doing this? Do you have any idea what would happen if anyone found out you could... ? How good are the protections you have on that box, anyway?" she demanded.

" _Very_ good. I'm not an idiot, thank you," he said primly.

"Yes, you are. Rowena would _never_ do something like this, and you know why? She has half a brain." Thom's face was growing red, but she doggedly continued. "Granted, you have four times as much brains as she does, but they seem to be principally occupied in cancelling each other out. You don't make _voodoo dolls_ of every single daughter of a noble family of your age in Tortall, you _absolute walnut._ You can't be arsed to make a single friend and now you go and do this? Do you _want_ the house of Trebond to be disbanded in disgrace?"

"Why did you even ask, then?" he snapped. "You said you wanted in, not to go on at me like a cook at a scullery maid! Besides, it's not as if anyone is ever going to find out! And you can't stop me!" Instantly a look of panic crossed his face. But he couldn't un-say it.

"But I can, can't I," Rosemund said slowly. " _If_ I wanted to."

He clutched at his sleeves. "Look," he said helplessly. "I..." He trailed off.

"The word that you are looking for," said Rosemund, crossing her arms, "is _please._ "

His face darkened, and his long ringlets of red hair began to drift lazily upward, glowing faintly. His hands curled into a grasping position, and filled with crackling white light. His violet eyes actually _changed color,_ swirling with dark energies.

Then he slumped and hung his head.

"Please?"

"Please what?" Rosemund smiled. It was like kicking a puppy. A puppy who really, really deserved it.

"Please... let... um..." He rubbed his forehead, and with visible effort, said, "Please don't stop me from turning all our classmates bald as a form of revenge, because if you do, I might just go insane and kill everyone in this Goddess-forsaken place."

Well, close enough.

\---

_Dear Tamsin,_

_Things are about to come to a head with Ralon. I'm going to have a fight with him two days from now. I can only hope that all my training with George has been enough._

_I know I'm doing the right thing, but I wish it didn't have to be so violent._

_I hope things are better with you. Don't kill anyone who didn't try to kill you first._

_Love,_

_Your brother, Alan of Trebond_

\---

Rosemund peeked out of the door to Thom's room, glancing back and forth. The hallway was empty. Everyone was gathered outside for the final student demonstrations of the year, and she was going to be late.

Things weren't exactly going according to plan.

Thom had destroyed the voodoo dolls, at Rosemund's insistence ("there's just too much possibility for destruction there"), and instead, after some hours of study in the convent's library, found a simple evocation that had enough precision to cut hair at a distance. Of course, it had originally been intended for much darker purposes than haircutting -- most violent spells had -- but the two were confident that their spellcasting control would be sufficient. They'd practiced in Thom's room, and even tried it out on each other -- just a trim, though. They both preferred their hairstyles as they were.

Cunegund had told the class months ago that, as a special event at the end of the year, the Gifted students would demonstrate something that they had learned to do for the benefit of all. To ensure that the demonstrations were appropriate for everyone -- Cunegund knew all too well the kind of nonsense that students would try given the chance to use their imagination -- the First Daughter met with each Gifted student personally to rehearse and give them feedback on their presentation. It was also an opportunity for them to learn a bit of showmanship and public speaking, which were useful for those with the Gift to market their power and themselves.

Both of the conspirators had chosen innocuous demonstrations for their sessions with Cunegund, of course. They just had a little bit of _extra_ magic up their sleeves. When it came down to it, there really was room for quite a bit of stuff in the draped sleeves of a bliaut.

But Rosemund, to her eternal shame, had forgotten the last ingredient she needed for her part of the evocation -- a buzzard's feather -- in Thom's room. The demonstrations were to be at eleven fifteen, and as the clock struck eleven and she was trailing the other girls outside, she realized her mistake.

She had run back down the hallway, back upstairs, and met Thom coming the other way. "What are you doing?" he hissed furiously.

"Buzzard's feather!" she panted, pointing behind him.

After enduring Thom's brief threats and curses, then parting ways, she ran back to his room, found the feather, and pinned it to the inside of her sleeve. And then, as she turned back toward the door to leave, she saw Alys.

The maid was leaning against the door, blocking her way, arms crossed. She did not look happy. "So," she said. "How's the master plan?"

Rosemund tried to think of some way to explain herself -- they were friends, weren't they? She could have left something she needed for her real demonstration in Thom's room. But Alys probably knew more than she was letting on. "Not well," she said. "There's a maidservant in my way, and I'm nearly late for the demonstrations."

Alys gave a short laugh. "Isn't that funny. Sounds like a real inconvenience." She leaned down and tapped the dark-skinned girl's nose. "All right. You're almost late, so I'll let you go this time. But if you don't tell me what this was all about afterward, I'll pierce your eyelids with a sewing needle." She shifted to the side of the door.

Good Lord, were all the Trebond servants as mad as their masters? "I don't think that will be necessary," Rosemund said, sidling past her. "You'll know when it happens."

Alys raised an eyebrow. "Well, won't that be nice," she said bitterly.

Now, after checking the hallway for any wayward teachers, students, or servants, Rosemund raced downstairs, and almost ran headlong into Daughter Dureen, the textiles instructor.

"My goodness, Rosemund," said the instructor. "You're in quite a rush."

"The presentations are about to start!" she panted.

"You have a few minutes yet. Let me walk with you there. Then Cunegund won't be able to say anything to you that she wouldn't say to me." The woman winked and took Rosemund's arm.

\---

Thom waited in the clearing, his hands clasped, carefully not looking at anyone else. It was pretty difficult, since they were standing in a circle on either side of him. Mostly this meant he was looking at the grass.

It was a gray day. The grass underfoot was damp, and clung to his skirts. The trees hung slightly lower than usual with drops, which fell on the students every few minutes.

First Daughter Cunegund, the other instructors, and all the girls in Thom's year had gathered in the same place that he made his stand with the oak tree on the first day of classes. The main difference was that now there were more of them, since all of the students in this year were invited to the demonstrations, not only the Gifted ones. The circle was wider, leaving a wide swath of grass in the middle. Cunegund stood at the very center and waited for the stragglers to arrive.

Thom had arrived as early as he could, and still had to elbow one or two girls out of the way to be able to stand directly in front of the oak tree. In this cold, wet weather, all the trees were dark, but the oak's charred bark was a crisp and glossy black.

Thom was, too; he wore the bliaut Alys had helped him wear on that day many months ago, in the Trebond colors. Back when Alanna was with him. It felt like he had stepped into a different universe since then.

The girl on his left was one of Rowena's friends. She muttered under her breath "Tree-killer," to a powerful burst of giggles from the girl next to her.

Thom mused to himself that the red embroidery on his bliaut put him in mind of fresh blood. Not that he had any intention of drawing blood from his classmates, of course. _This time._

He shifted from side to side and rubbed his thumbs against his palms, wondering where his partner in crime had gotten to. He reached for his buzzard feather, then remembered not to do that. Then he traced the embroidery around the waist of his dress. Then he twirled his hair around a finger. Then he wondered where Rosemund was again. Should he run and find her? No, Cunegund would shout at him if he so much as left the circle.

After Thom had nearly gotten to the point of panicking, Rosemund finally came into view. He frowned at her walking down the path at a sedate pace, then understood when he saw the sewing instructor walking arm in arm with her.

"Good afternoon, everyone," trilled Daughter Dureen. "I'm so thrilled to see you all here! What a wonderful afternoon this will be!" The girls at the edge of the circle edged out of the way to make room for her and Rosemund to join it.

Cunegund crossed her arms. " _So_ glad to have you join us, Dureen."

She cleared her throat. "Well then. Now that we are _all_ here, let's begin.

"The Spring Demonstrations at Mother of Mountains are a way for the Gifted students here to share their skills with one another, and practice showing their abilities and speaking about them. It is also an excellent opportunity for the non-Gifted students to gain an appreciation for the Goddess's power as it manifests itself on this plane, so I suggest you all pay close attention.

"Please remember to be quiet and respectful during _all_ the presentations." She swept a baleful eye over the congregated girls, many of whom widened their eyes at the mere suggestion that they could possibly misbehave.

The first student to enter the circle was Orionne. (Despite his best efforts, Thom had learned the name of all five of the girls in the Gifted class, after hearing Cunegund shout them about eight thousand times.) She was soft-spoken, and not very magically talented. She created an illusion of a mockingbird that sat on her hand and warbled a cheery tune. It seemed strangely out of place, appearing with all its feathers dry on a day like this.

Thom didn't pay much attention to the presentations after that. He was busy rehearsing the steps of their plan in his mind. First reach for the buzzard feather; then channel power and concentrate _just so_ ; then touch the pearl to--

His thoughts were interrupted by a strange feeling in his feet. They were getting warm. Strangely warm. In fact -- _uncomfortably_ so -- He glanced around the circle and saw Udara's chilly gray eyes resting on him. She was smiling just a little bit.

That-- how _dare_ she pull something like this on him! At a time like this! (Thom ignored the logical voice in his head pointing out that he was planning to do almost exactly the same thing.) He was _outraged_ that Udara would dare to even try to outmatch him magically, on the day when he was most prepared. Well, he'd show her!

He concentrated. The heat went out of his legs and he pushed it... very slowly... along the side of the circle to Udara, carefully avoiding the girl presenting, who was concentrating on extracting the fluid from a raw egg without breaking it. Smug, he stared her way, waiting for the irritating smile to drop off her face. It didn't. In fact, it grew a little bit bigger.

Thom suddenly noticed that the presenter had stopped speaking, and that he could hear chuckles echoing around the circle. He looked up.

"Mistress Trebond," Cunegund said flatly.

He looked down.

The wet grass had formed an ice crystal around his feet.

"Er," he said. "It's just so... cool today. I needed to draw out a little heat to warm myself up." The girl next to him snorted and tried to turn it into a cough.

Cunegund raised an eyebrow, then turned back to Cicily. "You may continue your presentation. I am _sure_ that Tamsin will apologize to you _most sincerely_ for causing this interruption."

Thom silently added Cunegund to the list of people he needed to kill when he was done with -- well, who was he kidding, she'd been on that list for a long time.

So Udara had just been trying to provoke him into doing something foolish so that he would get in trouble with the First Daughter. The _nerve_ of it! He would have to think of something truly awful to do to her in response, and the sooner the better.

In fact, he could just reverse what she'd done to him. Draw heat out of the grass around her, form visible ice crystals -- cooling her down in the process, he bet that would be uncomfortable -- but as he started to channel the energy, he felt a little prick on his arm.

He glanced over in anger. But it wasn't Udara. Rosemund was staring at him, with an expression he recognized from several previous interactions with the girl. The expression said: I will not hesitate to destroy your stupid life if you don't cut it out _right now_.

Thom's eye twitched. His fingers clenched and unclenched. But he stopped.

He'd grown used to the dark-skinned girl, in an odd sort of way. They'd spent a lot of time together, the past several months, planning this -- and sometimes just studying, when Rosemund insisted that he show her something or other. Occasionally he suggested that he might be interested in learning more about one of the little parlor tricks that she displayed in Cunegund's class. They weren't very good, of course, or very interesting, and always required much less magical force than _he_ could exert, but it satisfied his academic curiosity to learn a little bit about them, anyway. And Cunegund seemed pleased when he was able to repeat them later, though of course, the First Daughter's opinion wasn't worth much to him when he was already a more powerful mage than she would ever be.

But Rosemund was... _interesting_ to have around. She made life a little different. It felt odd to him now when too many days passed without them spending together. Not, of course, that he was actually interested in her company. He didn't need any company but his books and his Gift. But it had become a habit for him, and he liked to be able to keep a routine, that was all.

It was nothing like his relationship with Alanna had been. That is, it wasn't a relationship. Rosemund was just someone who he allowed to stay around because of the leverage she had over him. Regardless, being around her was ... frightening and unpredictable, in a way that being around Alanna never was. He didn't know what she would say next, or what she wanted. Rosemund expressed a deep interest in learning from him that he found truly bizarre, given how obviously dangerous it was to associate with a powerful sorcerer like him. And, he had to admit, she was smarter than Alanna. He found himself tripping over his words and missing jokes that sailed over his head half the time they spent together. It was strange -- obviously he was smarter than Rosemund, but she seemed to stay one step ahead of him a surprising fraction of the time.

He still didn't know what angle she was working, exactly.

But today he would find out for sure if she had been sincere about wanting to help him get revenge.

Rosemund's turn to present came and went. Her project was a piece of complex artificery, performed at surprising speed. She started with a cube of wood, which levitated above her hands, was cut into the shape of interlocking puzzle rings and polished, then unsolved and solved itself. It was an elaborate attempt to show off, but too subtle and complex for any of the other students to really understand and appreciate. Just like her, really.

Thom couldn't concentrate on her work. He licked his teeth, fidgeting with the first canine, then the next, trying to stay calm while she juggled wooden rings with just the power of her Gift. It was his turn next.

It seemed like an eternity and an instant had passed when Cunegund finally said "All right, Mistress Trebond. You're up."

He straightened up, like a puppet being pulled up by his head, and stepped into the center of the circle as Rosemund walked out of it. He wished he could see her face as he began to speak.


	4. Chapter 4

"Good morning, everyone." Tamsin lifted her palms and they began to glow with violet light.

"I've been working on this little demonstration for some time. Some of you have already seen a version of it." Her hands twisted and moved idly as she spoke, weaving trails of purple sparks in the air. "But today will be different. Today, I intend to fix what I damaged when I first came here."

She turned and walked toward the blackened oak. There was a gap in the circle where she had stood, directly in front of it. The girls on the left and right side of the gap quickly shuffled further away from the tree as they saw what she was doing.

The short, red-haired girl closed her eyes and raised her arms above her head, letting her long sleeves drape downward. Purple sparks formed on her dress, traveling across it and winking out as fast as they had appeared. A low humming came from her fingers.

The onlookers saw Tamsin exhale, and then, in time with her breathing, the oak tree changed.

Like a stain spreading over a tablecloth, pale color spread over the tree's charred bark, upward and upward, until the branches were almost invisible against the gray sky. The pale oak looked bizarrely out of place, against the dark wet trunks of the other trees. But it was healed.

Tamsin lowered her arms, and the last sparks fell.

She turned, walked back to the center of the circle, performed a deep curtsy, then returned to stand in front of the tree.

\---

Thom glanced around the circle. He couldn't read the expressions on his classmates' faces. Surprise? Wonder? Anger? Disdain? Indifference? Some just looked bored.

Not that it mattered to him what they thought.

He caught sight of Rowena. His stomach tightened at the smug expression on her face.

If Thom had been paying attention, he might have noticed that, while Cunegund was unsmiling, there was just a hint of approval and, perhaps, satisfaction in her eyes.

The blonde magic instructor stood motionless for a few moments. Then she strode back into the circle and said, "Thank you, Tamsin. Udara will give the last demonstration."

He looked at Rosemund. She inclined her head the smallest amount possible, meeting his eyes. It was time.

Thom brought his hands together at the same moment that Rosemund did.

The fashion for young ladies of this age was long, draping sleeves, that fell down below the waist. So when Thom clasped his hands, they were entirely covered by a waterfall of black fabric.

He let the edge of the sleeves rest on his wrists and slowly, carefully, reached inward, and touched the buzzard feather pinned to the inside of his left sleeve, simultaneously touching the pearl sewn into the right.

A moment passed and Udara walked into the center of the circle, picking up and dropping each leg with deliberation, like a puppet being walked very slowly and delicately across a stage. She carried a bowl of water in her hands.

"Good morning," she said. "Today, I will --" and then she gasped as her auburn hair fell to the ground in a sheet.

\---

Rosemund raged internally. That -- that _idiot_ had jumped the gun! Now it was obvious that it wasn't Udara's doing!

She pushed the power out of herself in a surge as she saw Thom begin to concentrate, since if they were going to screw it up, they might as well screw it up all at once, and she had a part to play in this.

It worked just as they had planned. Rowena, Udara, Mirabelle, and Cicily all yelped and frantically grabbed at their scalps, whipping their heads up and down, trying to understand what had just happened.

Cunegund lost no time. She marched to the center of the circle and barked "Ladies! Whoever did this--" her glare swept over the circle as she turned around "-- _will_ live to regret it, but in the meantime..." She turned to Udara, who, though shaken, now had her fists balled in anger. The First Daughter spoke more kindly than any of the class had ever heard her do. "Udara, if you would like to give your presentation now, we would be very grateful. Otherwise, we can finish this at a later time."

"No, I'll --" She cleared her throat and spoke louder. "I'll give it now.

"First -- first off," her voice shook, then resolved, "Tamsin, I _know_ this was you. And you will _pay_ for it."

"Udara--" Cunegund started warningly.

" _And_ ," she continued, "that will start now."

" _Udara_!" Cunegund reached for her, but what happened next was too fast for her to stop.

Udara flung the water in the bowl at Thom and it froze into tiny missiles in midair, ice crystals lit up with the yellow glow of the girl's magic. He cried out and held up his hands instinctively. An aura of purple fire appeared around him and the fragments of ice melted into nothingness as they came at him, like comets burning up in the atmosphere.

Where the yellow glow met the purple aura, it winked out in a puff, and Udara jerked each time it happened.

With the girl's attention so diverted, it was easy enough for the First Daughter to grab both her hands, then march over to Tamsin and grab _her_ hands, then bring them both to the center of the circle.

"Wonderful performance, everyone," she said brusquely, ignoring the squirming preteens that she was dragging by the wrist. "Show's over. Dismissed."

\---

_Dear Tamsin,_

_I did it. I beat Ralon._

_Somehow I don't feel as good about it as I thought that I would. He deserved it. And I had to do it, or he would have kept escalating. I don't see how I could have stayed here and allowed it to continue. But now, the fact that I beat him means that his family is in disgrace. He's going back to Malven for a while, and I don't know if he'll be back._

_The professors haven't said anything about it, but most everyone else has been looking at me with a bit more respect since._

_I'm looking forward to your next letter telling me about how your plan fared. I expect I'll get it before this one reaches you. I hope it went well, anyway._

_With love,_

_Your brother Alan of Trebond_

\---

_Dear Alan,_

_Please understand the depths of my despair when I tell you this: I'm beginning to wonder if I should have [unreadable, scribbled out] taken a different path after all._

_I've been confined to my chambers after what I did, along with a girl who helped me whose name is Rosemund. First Daughter Cunegund informed me that fighting is "unladylike" and inappropriate for the convent. Of course, she believes that interference and harassment of the kind that Rowena and her friends subjected me to are perfectly ladylike and acceptable [scribbled in bold and underlined several times]._

_I can at least take comfort that Udara of Malven is confined to her chambers as well, for her retaliation against me. More fool her for letting her temper get the best of her._

_Their game is abominable, but I've begun to think that I should learn to play it. I don't know how much more of this I can take._

_Good luck hitting your problems with sticks. Kill anyone who deserves it for me._

_Your sister, Tamsin of Trebond_

\---

_Dearest Tamsin,_

_You are revolting. At least_

Alanna paused with her quill poised over the paper.

She suddenly realized she couldn't think of anything to say. It wasn't as if her fight with Ralon was any better than what Thom had done, really. It had just been treated differently by their instructors because, well... knights were supposed to fight. There was no rule against it. Certainly not if you had been attacked first.

Not for the first time, she closed her eyes blissfully and thanked the Goddess that she and Thom had switched places so that she could come to the convent.

But then she felt a twinge of guilt. She was feeling _grateful_ that Ralon would lose his standing, never be able to be a knight, and perhaps suffer even greater consequences, because of her? Maybe things would have been better if the two of them had been confined to quarters for a while, too.

No. She couldn't believe that. Ralon would never have given up. And she would have looked weak if she couldn't stop him. That was part of being a knight, too: not only strength, but _public_ strength, _visible_ strength. You couldn't just give up.

But maybe that wasn't what Thom needed. He wasn't a page, and the convent wasn't the palace.

She kept writing.

_You're revolting. But I think you did the right thing._

_It all sounds very different from what we do here at the palace, but I expect you're right about learning to play the game, too. For that matter, I'd love to see you learn something and admit it, for once._

_Do tell me more about this Rosemund of yours. I can't believe it -- my little sister, making a friend? You must speak with the First Daughter on this, for it is surely a miracle._

_With love,_

_Your brother, Alan of Trebond_

\---

Thom sat on his bed cross-legged, concentrating. A ball of purple mage light coalesced in front of him, and he waited a few moments before saying, "Rosemund?"

"Hello, Tamsin." Her voice was quiet through the magic link, but distinct enough to be heard. "Can you hear me?"

"Yes, I'm here."

Thom had insisted that she continue to call him by his assumed name while in the walls of the convent. He could only hope that none of the Daughters or other Gifted instructors had thought to spy on him during the brief period when he'd allowed Alys to call him by his true name -- unfortunately, there was no real way to know if they had.

In any case, there was no way to know if he'd been found out without anyone saying anything, so there was no real point in worrying about it.

"So, I've been thinking," Thom said into the empty air. "I want to go visit the city."

There was a short silence, then some faint choking noises.

"Don't _strain_ yourself," he said, crossing his arms. "I get it, you're laughing at Rowena's stupid joke, can we move on?"

"Who's laughing?" said Rosemund's strangled voice. "No laughing here. No -- no ma'am."

"Good. Then we can move on to talking about how to get out of the convent while Cunegund is keeping us cooped up."

"What? Why?" She sounded genuinely curious. "It's only a couple weeks more before she'll let us go, anyway. There's no point in going to all the trouble of figuring out how to escape, and risk getting in more trouble."

Thom covered his face with his hands. "I just... I can't stand this anymore. It's so _boring_ being cooped up inside. Alys will hardly leave me alone. Look, are you on board or not?"

"You ran out of books, didn't you?"

"No comment."

There was a pause. "Honestly, this is one of the stupider ideas you've had, and you've had some pretty stupid ideas," she said. "Lay it on me."

\---

Alanna, over the course of her education thus far, had gotten to know her civics professor, Sir Myles of Olau, in a more friendly capacity than was strictly necessary for their working relationship as teacher and student.

The page had no idea that Myles suspected her gender, and Myles meant to keep it that way. He had no intention of scaring her away, or damaging her standing at court by revealing her secret. It was simplest if she didn't suspect what he knew.

Which was why, now, during one of their evening chess games, what Alanna said made it difficult for Myles to contain his reaction.

"Myles, do you think the way noble girls are treated is fair?"

His eyes widened and he glanced up at her sharply, trying not to look hopeful. Was she about to level with him? It seemed a bit early for the secrets to be laid bare like this. She was hardly halfway through her page training.

"Because my _sister,_ Tamsin," she said hastily, "is having some trouble at the convent, and I was thinking about ... how that's different for her. We were in, um. Similar situations. I suppose. And things went pretty differently."

"How so?" said Myles, having recovered his composure. He looked over the board and tried to think whether the strategy he'd been planning would still work with Alanna's last move.

The page looked down and fiddled with the pawn she'd taken from Myles earlier in the game. "Well... You know what happened with -- Ralon," she said haltingly. "A couple months ago."

He nodded gravely, and moved a piece. "I suppose the whole palace has some idea of what happened."

"He had to leave court."

"Yes."

Alanna stared at the board unseeing. "He had to leave because of what I did. I hurt him, I destroyed his standing, I shamed him in front of everyone."

"Alan, surely you don't think it's your fault that Ralon chose to make himself your enemy."

"That's just it!" She looked up at him, then picked a piece to move, almost at random. "I don't. I was entirely in the right. But when -- um, Tamsin, did something similar to someone she knew at school, she got in trouble. It doesn't seem fair."

"Hmm," was all Myles said for a moment. He studied the pieces in front of him, then took Alanna's bishop.

"I don't know your sister," he said then, "but... How similar do you think the situation was, really?"

She put her head on her hands. "Well... She does tend to, um, exaggerate. And she can be a bit... Well. I think, from what she said, she must have been provoked at least some. She sounded really upset by what the other person did to her. And I don't think what she did was that bad. She didn't actually hurt anyone."

Myles's gaze was piercing. "She didn't hurt anyone physically, is what you mean."

She nodded.

"But as you've learned yourself, a loss of face can be just as harmful as hurting someone," he pointed out. "If you had broken Ralon's arm in, say, an accident during a friendly practice bout, he would be much better off than he is now."

"Yes... that's true," she said slowly. She sat back, then shifted forward again and finally moved one of her pieces. "But, we've gotten off track. The question is, are girls treated fairly, compared to pages?"

"Y-es," said Myles. He'd been hoping, in a guilty part of himself, to avoid this part of the conversation. It was so much harder to have a conversation with one of his students when he didn't have a clear answer to give. "I suppose we have. What have we established, with respect to the facts at hand? We've decided that physical harm isn't all that important."

She nodded absently, studying the board. "But I hurt Ralon's standing, the same way Tamsin did Udara's. And we were treated differently."

"Udara? You can't mean Udara of Malven? Ralon's _sister_?"

She glanced up. "I suppose. I hadn't thought about it."

Myles shook his head. "What a world. Strange how these things run in families."

"Hmm. That's interesting," Alanna said. "But, let me finish."

"Of course. Can you tell me _how_ you and Tamsin were treated differently?"

"Well. I wasn't really treated at all, actually," Alanna said. "Or rather, people treated it as a good thing, rather than bad. I mean people seem to, um. Respect me now. In a way that they didn't before. And Tamsin... Well, she was confined to her chambers for weeks. It's really nothing like at all, and I just can't understand why."

"So you think what you did would have warranted punishment?"

"No, not really. I was defending myself. It had to be done."

"So you think that Tamsin should _not_ have been punished?"

She paused. "Maybe? She was defending herself, but in a different way than I was."

Myles hummed thoughtfully. "What if the reason she was treated differently was that she was defending herself differently, too?"

Alanna frowned. "I'm not sure I understand. Are you saying that if she'd gotten into a fight with the other person at the convent, she might have gotten in less trouble?"

"Well, not exactly," said Myles, who hadn't really thought through what he was saying and now had to make something up to cover it. "I suppose I mean that pages, squires, and knights live and breathe their discipline. They maintain order by showing their strength, so a show of strength to defend yourself against someone who harmed you is not frowned on; quite the opposite, in fact. But women live differently. They maintain order with a sense of harmony and cooperation, or, for those who are so lucky, terrifying magical power. For them, it doesn't make sense to reward shows of strength, because those are likely to destroy the shared sense of order, rather than reinforce it."

Alanna crossed her arms. "You're a man. What do you know about how women live?"

"Er," said her teacher. His face reddened.

"Um. Nevermind," said Alanna, suddenly realizing what she had just said to her bachelor professor and feeling very uncomfortable. "I mean, is there anything written down about this? Noble women do a lot more reading and writing than men, don't they? Wouldn't they have written about..." she gestured. "I don't know, how they think about this sort of thing. I mean, Tamsin likes to read," she added suddenly. "Tamsin would be interested in it. I'm sure she could benefit. I don't expect that _I_ would be very interested, of course. But I want to help her."

"Of course," said Myles. "I think there might be something. Let me see what I can find for you."

\---

_Dear Tamsin,_

_I talked to Sir Myles about the problems you were having, and what he said sounded a little bit like what you said in your last letter. "Playing the game." It seems like things really are different for women. I never imagined how complicated it would all be for you. Anyway, he told me about some books that you might like to read. There's one called The Princess by Machiavella which he said is very illuminating, and another one called How To Make Friends And Influence People. Of course, you already know that you need to make friends because I keep telling you, but maybe it would be helpful to have some more literate instruction from someone like yourself._

_I also realized that the Udara person you mentioned is probably related to Ralon. Strange how these things run in families, don't you think?_

_I hope all is going well for you. Maybe you should keep your head down for a little while; it sounds like you'll need to._

_With love,_

_Your brother, Alan of Trebond_

\---

Just at this moment, Thom was keeping his head down below the window of First Daughter Cunegund's window as he crept by.

He was using an invisibility charm, but he wasn't exactly sure how long it would last or how well it worked, and anyway you couldn't be too careful. The First Daughter lived on the first floor of the convent, and was known to be very fond of sitting by her window and enjoying the beauty of the convent's gardens.

He felt a light tap on his shoulder. "Up ahead," Rosemund whispered.

Lady Josselyn was coming down the front path from the gates, exactly the way that they needed to go. Well, they weren't very sheltered here by the corner of the building -- it would be a long run across the lawn to any trees -- so they would have to find out how well the invisibility charm worked now.

The older noblewoman paused and looked around. She thought she could sense something a little strange in the air, but wasn't sure quite what; her Gift had always been relatively weak, as these things went, so it was difficult for her to use it effectively when push came to shove.

She shrugged and kept walking. The convent was full of young girls just learning to use their Gift; encountering a bit of magical residue here and there wasn't that surprising.

Thom breathed a sigh of relief and crept across the lawn into the trees, followed by his... followed by Rosemund.

\---

The city was about as awful as he remembered, filled with unpleasant noises and smells and sights. But it was better this time. He knew what to expect, and he knew that he could go back to the convent afterward. And importantly, he had a goal.

\---

_Dear Alan,_

_I visited the Mithran temple yesterday._

_It wasn't exactly what I was expecting. I walked in and I wanted them to teach me everything they knew, to show me the cloisters, to lend me books._

_They took a little bit of time to win over._

\---

"Excuse me, _what_ did you say?" the novice said in disbelief.

"I want to learn magic in the cloisters," said the young noble girl in a fine blue dress standing in front of him. Her eyes were an unnatural violet, and burned with intensity. "Please take me to the master here so I may speak with him about my training."

"Um." He glanced around, seeking support or backup in some form, but he was the only monk in the long entrance hallway to the temple. "Do you have an appointment with Master Si-Cham?"

The girl stared at him blankly. "I don't need an appointment."

"Um. Why not?" he said lamely.

Her eyes sparkled and he felt a sudden, dreadful certainty that he had asked exactly the wrong question.

"Because I can do _this_!" She raised her hands slightly and a gust of wind rushed through the hall. He leaned sideways and then stumbled, almost falling over, as the wind stopped as suddenly it had begun.

"There. Now, take me to him." She put her hands on her hips and waited expectantly.

The novice was too confused to do anything but what she demanded.

\---

_I met someone called Si-Cham. I don't think I'm going to learn much from him after all; he's not nearly as powerful as First Daughter Cunegund. But he's very interesting nonetheless. I may come back and visit if he wants me to._

\---

The novice brought the girl to Master Si-Cham's door, then, not really knowing what else to do, knocked.

He opened the door and saw the girl, then said to the novice, "Who is this?"

"She, um." The novice bit his lip. "She wanted to see you."

"My name is Tamsin of Trebond," the girl said imperiously. "I need to speak with you about matters of great importance to the realm."

"Really?" he said, taken aback.

"Yes. It is of great importance to the realm that I receive the best magical training available."

Si-Cham gave the novice a look.

The novice looked at his feet and reddened.

"Come into my office, then, and let us speak," Si-Cham said kindly.

He let the girl into the cramped room, and gestured to a low wooden stool in front of his table piled high with papers. Every surface was covered in piles of books, except for the walls, which were covered in bookshelves. The girl meticulously removed the books on the stool and placed them on the ground before sitting and crossing her legs on the stool.

Si-Cham closed the door.

"How should we begin?" said the girl. "I have some demonstrations I can give you of my level, so you will know where to start, but I think they might not be ... suitable for this office. Do you have a courtyard where we can go?"

"Let us begin," he said quietly, "by being truthful with each other."

He stepped lightly to the side of the desk and sat down on his own stool. She watched him, suddenly uncertain.

"Tell me why you are dressed as a girl, please. And your real name."

The color drained out of the boy's face. He twisted a lock of his red hair with anxiety, but his eyes darkened with anger. "I -- what? You --"

And then, in the face of Si-Cham's complete impassive certainty, he gave up. His hands dropped to his lap.

"How did you know?"

"It is a gift I have from Mithros," he said, watching the boy. "It allows me to see... certain things about a person. Their true selves. It is not always what you think it will be, even knowing everything about a person, or even yourself."

"That's an amazing power," the boy said, leaning forward, eyes alight. "Can you teach it to me?"

Si-Cham crossed his arms. "Tell me your real name, please."

He slumped back on the stool slightly, but his eyes still burned. "My given name is Thom of Trebond."

"And why do you come dressed as someone you are not, Thom of Trebond?"

"That's--" The boy appeared to give this some thought, pursing his lips and rubbing his thumb against his fingers. "I don't know if that's precisely true. I am Tamsin of Trebond as much as anyone can be. It's closer to who I would be, in some ways, than if I were somewhere else."

Si-Cham smiled. "A good imitation of wisdom. But tell me why you are here, now, wearing this clothing, and playing this role of Tamsin."

Thom narrowed his eyes. "My... sister and I," he said reluctantly. "We're twins. But the roles that our father chose for us didn't suit us. So we decided to switch. I'm studying at Mother of Mountains with the -- girls there. He -- My sister is a page at the palace now."

Si-Cham steepled his fingers and leaned back. He was impressed, but didn't let it show on his face. "A difficult choice, for one so young," he said mildly.

Thom nodded. "It was more than a year ago," he said.

The master said nothing after that. He found that it often paid off to let people stew in their own juices for a little while. He just stared at Thom, making eye contact, with a far-away expression on his face, perhaps a mild smile. He had done this many times before, and he was perfectly comfortable doing it. If he got bored, he usually thought of what the novices were going to make for dinner that evening.

The boy squirmed, clearly wondering what he was meant to do, looked away, looked back, looked around at the room, then eventually got desperate to restart the conversation, as most people did. " _Sowhatdoyouthinkabouttrainingmeinmagic?_ "

"Hmm?" Si-Cham took a moment to restart his thoughts, after having begun to think of the ground sesame paste that they would have that evening. "Training you in magic? What gave you the idea that I could do that?"

"The Mithran priests are supposed to teach boys how to do magic!"

"We take apprentices," the master said. "Do you know what an apprentice is?"

"Someone who learns from a master and does service in return," the boy said promptly.

"Yes. That is right. But you are a girl, and you study at the convent. You can't do service here if you have no time."

"I'm a-- You just said you know I'm not a girl!"

"Well, yes. Here you are not a girl. But at the convent you are, and you must continue to be, or you will lose your place there. Correct?"

"Yes, but I can come here. However often you want me to, it's fine, I can come here and help you. I can do it, I don't have to wait for the First Daughter to let me, I can sneak out anytime I--"

"You can come here if you leave the convent," Si-Cham said softly. "Not otherwise. What I am saying, Thom of Trebond, is that we do not teach the use of Mithros's gifts to those who cannot give their life to his service. If that is what you wish, you may have it, but if not, your presence here is a waste of time.

"Besides," he added, "our use of the Gift is not nearly so sophisticated as you may think. The Mithran lifestyle focuses on philosophy and living in harmony with Bright Mithros's vision for our lives, and magic is a small part of that. There is little need for it here."

There was a short silence.

The boy stood up, his skirts rustling against the floor. "Well, why didn't you just _say_ so? I'll be off, then."

Si-Cham stared as he departed.

He had a feeling, though he wasn't sure how he knew this, that it wouldn't be the last time that they met.

\---

The novice escorted the girl out of the temple. At least, that's what he told himself he was doing, as he jogged down the hallways after her.

It was only when she had actually left the temple doors that he allowed himself to think of the fact that really, in point of fact, what he was doing was following her.

"Er-- say-- uh-- you with the red hair! And the purple eyes and the gust of wind!"

She froze and turned around slowly.

"Oh, uh, I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm sorry," he said. "It's just I-- I didn't catch your name."

This was, of course, the most poorly-executed introduction in the history of Tortall. He would feel shame about it later, but there was no time for it right now.

"That's too bad," the girl said coldly, and turned around.

"Wait! I, er. My name is Noel," he said. "What's yours?"

"Tamsin of Trebond," came her voice from behind her mass of red hair. She didn't turn around, but started walking down the street again as she spoke. "You'll hear it again, whispered with fear in taverns, or spoken about with awe, or read out of history books. And you'll tell people, 'I met her when she was a girl visiting the Mithran Temple in the City of the Gods,' and they won't believe you. It's very sad, when you think about it."

She rounded the corner and was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

It was some months before Thom ventured back into the city, but when he did, he had a much more concrete goal in mind. He followed the directions he had been given: from the convent gates, down the main road, then into an alley before reaching the market, then look for the rowhouse with a red door.

He found it, and stood in front of it for a moment, unsure, before knocking.

The door opened. "Yes, what is it?" A crabby old woman with her hair pulled back in a severe bun answered the door. Her dress was shabby but painfully clean.

"I'm.. Tamsin of Trebond. I was told you would have something for me."

"Oh, Tamsin!" Her expression cleared. "Yes. I've had this letter for you for a couple weeks. Took your time, didn't you?"

"I wasn't sure how long it would--"

"Well, here you go." She disappeared from view then reappeared a moment later, paper package in her hand.

Thom took it; it had "BURN AFTER READING" scrawled on it in large letters in Alanna's handwriting. He sighed. "Thank you very much, ma'am."

"You're welcome," she said, and closed the door.

Thom carefully tucked the flat object into the bodice of his dress to hide the embarrassing note, then headed back to the convent.

\---

_Dear Thom,_

_It almost feels strange to be using your real name again after calling you Tamsin for so long._

_I'm so grateful to George for having his people carry these letters for us. He's really a very generous friend, you know. Funny how the King of Rogues should be so goodhearted._

_Anyway, I have some exciting news. Duke Gareth told all the pages today that at the end of this year, the girls from the Mother of Mountains convent are going to come to Corus to visit and mingle with the pages and squires. I suppose it's to help us learn how to behave in a courtly fashion._

_I can't wait to see you again._

_With love,_

_Your sister, Alanna of Trebond_

\---

_Dear Alanna,_

_Goodhearted? Doesn't the King of Rogues have to kill his predecessor to ascend?_

_About our visit to Corus. I have some bad news..._

\---

Thom was doomed.

Really, ultimately, tragically doomed.

He couldn't see any way around it. He was going to have to commit ritual suicide before the end of this year. He would have to think of a suitably dramatic and interesting way to do it. Something with lots of purple fire, certainly; ideally something that would demonstrate heretofore unknown feats of magic. It would go down in the history books as the most bizarre and fascinating suicide of a fourteen-year-old crossdressing nobleman of all time.

"What's the problem?" Rosemund said. The dark-skinned girl was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a textbook. "It's just a dance."

Thom groaned. He was lying on the floor, enjoying the sensation of misery. "Think about it for ten seconds, would you."

"What, that you'll have to dance with _boys_?" she mocked. "Afraid that your femininity will awaken something in them... or in yourself?"

He wanted to glare at her, but he would have had to crane his neck to see her from this angle, so he settled for emitting an angry red-violet glow.

"Seriously, though, haven't you ever had dance lessons before? I learned when I was just a little girl. It's not that hard."

"Dancing as a boy is different. And I don't... I wouldn't like it," he grumped. He couldn't explain it, but he felt sure that the end-of-year ball would be just as bad as the market in the City of the Gods was. Too many people, too many lights, too much noise, and above all, _dancing_. He shuddered.

"Well, you'll have to survive it," she shrugged. "You and I could practice together."

The tone in her voice was very casual. Too casual. Thom sat up.

"Won't we both be learning the girl's part?" he said carefully.

"Oh-- you're right," she said instantly. "It was a stupid idea. Never mind."

He looked at her. "Rosemund?"

He couldn't quite make it out on her dark skin, but it seemed there was a slight reddish cast to it that wasn't ordinarily present.

"I've got homework to do," she said, standing up. "I'll see you later, Tamsin."

The door slammed behind her. Thom had a bad feeling that, despite not having done anything strange or even rude as far as he could tell, he had somehow handled that badly.

\---

Alanna was doomed.

Really, ultimately, tragically doomed.

She couldn't see any way around it. Ritual suicide had been unheard of among the knights of Tortall for many centuries, but she could bring it back. Of course, she didn't actually own her own sword yet, so that meant she would have to borrow one from the palace's training armory, and it seemed rude to use a borrowed sword to commit seppuku. Maybe she could save up to buy one by the end of the year? She got a modest allowance from her father's estate every couple of months -- very modest -- but if she went to one of the cheapest weapon sellers in town, she might be able to haggle them down...

"So, have you ever learned to dance, Alan?" Gary asked, lying on the grass without a care in the world. It was a sunny day and Duke Gareth had given the pages an afternoon off.

"Once, when I was a child," she said hesitantly. "I don't remember it very well at all. And you?"

"Not at all. My father's not really the dancing type, as you might imagine." Gary's father, Duke Gareth, was charged with training the pages at the palace to be squires; he had been married for many years, and didn't seem one for balls. "I'm sure Jon's had training, though! They wouldn't let a princeling go without, eh?" He punched Jonathan in the arm.

"Oh, I suppose," Jonathan said. He sat with his knees cradled in his arms, staring at the edge of the practice field. "I didn't like it much then. But maybe things will be different now."

"Well, of course it'll be different! There'll be _girls_!" Gary laughed. "That's what dancing is for, isn't it? It's not as though little kids can appreciate it. Truly, I'm looking forward to it. And you two should, too."

"Hmmm," Jonathan said noncommittally. He glanced at Alanna.

"Not me," said Alanna. "I'm really not the dancing type either."

"Well, that's all right," said Gary with a wink. "Maybe you'll find that the type you are changes once the young noble ladies of the realm are here."

She didn't bother to argue, instead standing up. "I'm bored. Who wants to go a round of boxing with me?"

"You never stop, do you, Trebond?" Gary laughed again.

Jonathan stood up and followed her to the ring in the dirt.

\---

_Dear Alanna,_

_I think I'm going to vomit if I have to hear the girls at the convent chattering about the 'handsome young lads at the palace' for a moment more. I can comfort myself only in the knowledge that are all mortal, so one day my suffering will end._

\---

_Dear Thom,_

_My beloved brother, you have only to say the word and I will gladly help you end your suffering sooner... on just one condition, which is that you must do the same for me._

\---

When Cunegund announced that there would be a ball, the girls began to have dancing lessons with Mistress Hilda Smith, a young woman from a village outside Corus who had been trained in courtly arts.

Misstress Smith danced the man's part to demonstrate how it was done. She showed them how to follow the rhythm, how to count the beats of music, how to step elegantly, and how to stand while dancing. For all that Thom hated it, he did learn, and learn to do it well. His classmates did as well; he tried not to look at Udara and Rowena, who were graceful and beautiful even with their cropped hair and condescending expressions.

He glanced over at Rosemund, occasionally. She was clumsier than he was, but he could tell she liked dancing; the smiles on her face while she danced with Miss Smith reached all the way to her fervent orange eyes.

Thom mostly wished that he could use the time for something else. He saw no reason for this farce -- it wasn't as if he was looking for a noble husband, or a noble wife, for that matter. But it was yet another thing that he had to tolerate to learn magic and mathematics, usually seen as more feminine arts.

\---

The new instructor arrived in the dead of winter, with bags and horses and much fanfare.

His name was Duke Roger. Thom learned, through the mutterings of his female classmates, that he was deliriously handsome. A lock of his soft brown hair fell partly over his face, accenting his deep blue eyes. He was in his thirties, but looked younger.

Roger was a skilled magic user. He sat in on Cunegund's class, offering occasional interjections and suggestions, which Cunegund took with surprisingly good grace.

He came to their dance classes, too, and served as a second partner for the girls.

Thom hated him.

He couldn't explain it, which bothered him nearly as much as the duke himself. Thom felt an itching in his scalp whenever the duke was near, and could hardly stand the sight of him. In dance class, he wormed his way across the room to make sure that he would dance with Miss Smith as often as possible.

Once, he couldn't avoid dancing with the Duke. He felt a shudder of revulsion come over him as the older man's arms firmly encircled his shoulders and arm. He must have looked as ill as he felt, because Roger dropped his arms and asked "Are you all right?" in a tone of voice so gentle that the girls near Thom glared at him enviously.

"I don't feel very well," he said truthfully. "I think perhaps I need to go lie down."

That day, he returned to his room and lay on his bed for a couple of hours, going around and around in circles in his head about why this was happening to him.

After an hour or so, Thom heard footsteps coming down the hallway, then the rustle of skirts. He hadn't bothered to close his door to insulate it from sound, which he now regretted. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a dark blob in a yellow dress come into view, then recognized her.

Rosemund leaned against the open doorframe, arms crossed, and asked "How are you doing?"

Thom, lying in bed across the room, was oddly surprised to hear an open expression of caring from her, without a bit of sharp wit or insult. "Not very well," he answered in kind.

Her eyes dimmed a bit. "I see," she said. "May I come in?"

He began to suspect that something was up when she entered and shut the door with a happy sigh.

"I'm sorry to bother you when you're not feeling well," she began, not sounding very sorry, "but I just _had_ to tell someone. Duke Roger asked me to dance as part of a demonstration to the entire class today, and of course, I was so nervous-- you know I'm not very good at it-- but I did it, since it's not like I could exactly say no to him, but it wasn't what I expected at all, he was so careful that it was almost easy to follow him! I couldn't believe how well I did! It was like--"

" _Spare_ me," Thom interrupted. "I don't care to hear any more than I need to about _that man_ , and especially not from you."

She startled, looking like someone had just kicked her puppy. "What? What do you mean, _that man_?"

"You know who I'm talking about. Duke Roger." He draped his arm across his face to block out the light.

Thom heard Rosemund dragging his chair over, then a thump as she sat down. "Don't tell me _that's_ why you're up here avoiding class?"

"In a manner of speaking. He touched me and it made me feel sick."

She half-stifled a giggle. "You make it sound like he-- Why would it make you feel sick? What do you hate about him so much?"

"I don't _know_ , alright?" he half-shouted, making her jump. "I just can't be near him, it makes me feel strange and horrible."

Rosemund shifted in her chair. "Is this... Do you think you... " She cleared her throat, and gave up on trying to be diplomatic. "You know, it sounds to me like you're jealous. It's not as though there's ever been another, you know, _male_ person here, so it's not surprising that he would get a lot of attention, especially when he's so handsome and charming." She sighed again.

Thom flung his arm outward, nearly smacking her in the face across the cramped room, and bolted upright. "That's _not_ it! It's something else. There's some kind of strange effect... In fact, now that I think about it, this is so bizarre that perhaps it's a magical effect of some kind. I wonder if he's doing something to me?" He jumped out of bed and started to pace.

"Thom, I think you're being unreasonable about this," Rosemund said, glaring at him. "Just because he's the only other man here doesn't mean you need to worry about, you know, romantic competition. He's twice the age of any of the girls here, for one thing."

"I'm not a man," Thom said absently. "Not old enough, for one thing. I just don't know what it could be that's causing this. I've never had mysterious, unexplained illnesses before... What if it's an interaction between his Gift and mine, somehow? Have you ever heard of something like that, Rosemund?"

She shook her head. "I don't think that's it, Tho--"

" _Stop_ calling me that!" he barked. "You've been spilling my secrets right and left since you came in here. Suppose Roger were listening? I can't afford to have this come out, especially not with him here."

Her orange eyes darted downward. "Right... I think I need to leave now, Tamsin. I'll see you later."

He didn't really notice as she left, because he had begun pulling books out of his chest and hunting through their indexes.

\---

_Dear Alanna,_

_I have an important warning for you. Please make sure you read this carefully, and burn this letter when you're done._

_We had a new instructor visit the convent to teach for a while. He's the king's nephew, a man named Duke Roger of Conte. I think something is terribly wrong with him. He's going to go to the palace soon, and you'll see what I mean._

_I did some research on what could be causing the awful way I feel around him. It turns out that magical Gifts can react badly to each other, especially when they're conferred by different gods. We've always known that our Gift is conferred by the Mother Goddess, since we were little and saw the priestess in the village, but I don't know where Roger's comes from._

_I think he's been doing magic the entire time he's here. Just a little bit of magic, not enough to be noticeable. He's more charming than he should be. The girls and even the other instructors fawn over him a little more than makes sense. I_ know _what you're going to say, and I really don't think that explains the entirety of the phenomenon. But you can see for yourself what happens when he visits your class full of boys._

_The thing that scares me the most is that he's a powerful magic user, more powerful than Cunegund and maybe even more powerful than me. He knows a lot, too. He corrects me in class on complex details of magic use like it's nothing._

_I've done my best to get on his good side, but I don't really know if it worked. Try not to attract his attention, Alanna. He's dangerous. Stay safe._

_With love,_

_Your brother, Thom_

\---

"Absolutely not!" Alanna shouted, standing up from her desk.

Duke Roger chuckled, showing no sign of being troubled by her fury. "All right, Alan, there's no need to get upset about it. Jonathan, what about you? Any interest in a little practice at a magician's duel?"

She sat down, embarrassed, while her friend eagerly agreed to try his cousin Roger, a dangerous man who was third in line for the throne, in single combat.

Roger conjured a raw egg to break over the top of Jonathan's head. Jonathan dyed Roger's orange vest with blue stripes. The class was greatly amused.

Alanna, on the other hand, was deeply worried, and had no good way to express it. She was angry almost all the time, with Roger here. Thom had been right -- she felt uneasy around him. It was a feeling of pricking in her thumbs that never let up and let her rest. She knew there was something wrong about how easily the other pages were won over by his jokes and party tricks, but she couldn't tell what. So she had these weird outbursts. She felt like an overfull pot that was boiling constantly, and couldn't control when she would spill over.

This couldn't go on for much longer.

\---

"Myles," said Alanna, hesitantly. "Can you keep a secret?"

Her teacher looked up from the chessboard and smiled. "Certainly I _can,_ Alan, but I don't think that's the question you were asking me. Did you want to know, instead, if I am willing to keep a specific secret that you have in mind?"

She stared at him for a moment, then nodded.

"That's a hard question to answer, without knowing what the secret is," he said after a moment. "If it's something that I would be honor-bound to bring to Duke Gareth, then, perhaps not."

"Hmm," she said. She moved a piece.

"I doubt there are many secrets you could have that would fall into that category," Sir Myles mused aloud. "I suppose if there were something about your fitness to be a page -- but I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem. You're one of the best pages we have, so I'm certain there's nothing that would exclude you."

Alanna stiffened. Did he suspect her gender? She hadn't even thought of that! But he went on.

"If you were, say, plotting rebellion against King Roald-- no?" he raised an eyebrow as her eyes widened in shock. "Didn't think so. Then, in my considered opinion, there's not much you could tell me that I wouldn't be willing to keep secret for you.

"But, as your teacher, I feel obligated to remind you that all trust must be earned, and if this information you have in mind is truly sensitive, then you should consider carefully whether it needs to go to my ears just now. You've awakened my curiosity, but I can stay calm about it if I need to. I've had plenty of practice at deliberately _not_ learning my students' secrets." He moved a piece.

Alanna chuckled, but her face turned serious again quickly. "All right. The truth is, Myles, I don't know where else to turn with this. I don't think anyone else would believe me. In fact, I don't know if you will believe me, either. But I know it's a more complicated problem than I can handle by myself. I need your help."

She looked up to gauge his reaction. His eyebrows were furrowed with concern, fingers steepled against his chin.

"I think Duke Roger is planning something. Something bad," she said. "Something against King Roald."

Myles just barely managed to control his face in time. A wave of calm swept over his outward appearance. He'd been practicing for this, but he hadn't expected it from one of his students, much less Alan, who he'd thought had more personal problems to worry about than what was going on with the monarchy.

Of course, the suddenness of his composure might have itself sparked suspicion in a keen observer, but he doubted that Alan would notice.

"I see," was all he said. "What makes you think that?"

The page shook her head. "I don't know, exactly... Well. There is one thing. He's been using magic, a _lot_ , and I think he's using it to manipulate people. Not a whole lot, just a tiny bit, which is why it isn't very noticeable. It's just to make them... like him more, I guess. I guess that doesn't sound all that bad on its own."

That _idiot_!

"But it does strange things to me," Alan went on. "I think his Gift is... touching my Gift, and they sort of set each other on fire where they're touching, or something like that..." She tried to remember the way Thom had phrased it. "They're inimical to each other. It hurts for me to be around him for a long time, or too close to him. I think that's partly why everyone else likes him so much more than I do."

"He's one of your instructors, isn't he?" Myles asked, to fill the gap in the conversation. Damn, he'd _told_ Roger to turn off the charm -- literally -- but it seemed he hadn't taken the advice to heart. "That must be very difficult to handle when you need to be around him so often."

Alan nodded vigorously. "Yes! I'm so glad you understand, Myles. It's hard for me to pay attention in class, and hard for me to do my best, and to be honest, it's putting a rift between me and Jonathan, too. He doesn't understand why I hate Roger so much. I tried to tell him how the duke makes me feel, but he wouldn't listen."

"Jonathan seems to be very loyal towards those he considers friends," Myles commented.

"Yes," she sighed. "Jon is very loyal. It's something I like about him, most of the time."

Myles thought for a moment before taking one of her pawns. He decided to try a hands-off approach. Maybe if he just asked questions, he could avoid telling her anything himself. "So, what do you want to do about it?"

"I don't _know_. That's why I'm asking you, Myles!"

Well, so much for that gambit.

"It's so complicated. I mean, he's a teacher, which means that everyone trusts him, and he's the king's nephew, which means that even more. And everyone likes him because of the magic he's using. And it's not a crime to make people like you. I mean, I hate it. It's creepy and it's just plain weird, and I'm sure he's up to _something_ else. But I don't know what! And I don't know how to prove it!" She knocked down the rook that Myles had used to take her pawn with her bishop, which he immediately used as an opening to take the bishop.

"That's an interesting jump you made," he observed. "You said you don't know how to prove it. But how can you be sure he's doing something else if you don't have evidence?"

The page narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if he isn't up to something? What if he's just a smarmy git who wants everyone to like him?" _Which he definitely is,_ the knight thought.

She crossed her arms and stared at him. "You don't believe me."

"It's not that I don't believe you," he said carefully. "You said yourself you don't know what he's up to, but you think there's something. How can you know what to do about it unless you know what it is?"

"Hmmmm." She stared at the board. After a few moments, she moved a piece.

Finally she said, "But how can I find out?"

He smiled. "Now you're asking the right questions. Have you thought about asking him?"

She shook her head. "No. Absolutely not. I don't want to speak to him more than absolutely necessary."

"Hmm... Is there anyone who knows him well you could speak to? A friend, or a family member, perhaps?"

Her eyes widened. "King Roald? I don't think... This isn't the sort of thing he speaks to pages about, I think. And I already know what Jonathan thinks. He won't listen to me."

"I see..." Myles drummed his fingers on the table, pretending to think, then moved his chess piece. "Check, by the way. Perhaps then there's someone else who could help you investigate. Someone who has some authority over him -- ideally someone who isn't too fond of Duke Roger..." _Gareth. Say Duke Gareth._

She looked up at him, light dawning in her eyes. " _You,_ Myles!" She moved her queen. "Checkmate!"

_Oh, crap._

\---

Myles bustled nervously around his apartments, moving books out of the heaps lying on every available surface and into some semblance of order on the bookshelves. The palace maids were in here to clean every day, but they didn't touch anything made of paper in the room after his repeated requests to that effect.

He had cleared off the rich mahogany table that he normally used to do research and take notes, unburied a second chair out from the pile of papers on it, and requested that his and Duke Gareth's meals be brought there this evening.

A knock came at the door. "Please, come in!" Myles called, sitting down on the chair furthest from the door.

Duke Gareth entered, looking worn. The tall, broad-shouldered man had a few gray hairs, and some signs of age on his face, but he still kept in excellent shape in the sparring yards. He didn't train the pages himself anymore, though, because the strain was too much. He wore a simple brown tunic and leggings, suitable for mild physical work, not that he did much of it these days. His weariness was most likely due to the emotional strain of teaching the pages, rather than physical. Myles could sympathize, being their history and civics teacher himself.

The two exchanged pleasantries and sat down to their meal. Myles asked how the pages were doing in his classes, and Gareth asked the same. They complained about how the youths of today never did listen, and listened sympathetically to one another.

Finally, Duke Gareth asked the question Myles had been waiting for.

"So, why did you ask me here this evening, Sir Myles? I know there's usually some urgent matter to discuss when we have these little get-togethers."

The older knight took a deep breath.

"I think we need to have a word with Roger," he said delicately. "He's been using magic on the students. Doing... that thing he does. You know."

The duke dropped his fork on the table, made as if to bang his fist on the wooden surface, then stopped himself and laid it flat. He sighed. " _Again_?"

Myles shook his head wearily. "The man has more vanity than sense by half. It's not just me, either -- one of the pages noticed, and asked me for advice on what to do about it, if you can believe that."

Duke Gareth leaned back in his chair. "That must have been awkward."

"That's not the half of it. He found it so suspicious that he's worried that Duke Roger is plotting something nefarious, and he asked me to look into it for him. Find out what the duke is trying to do."

Gareth snorted. "Ha! I suppose that won't be difficult for you, now will it?"

"No. I suppose not." Myles didn't smile.

There was a brief, contemplative silence.

"Gareth," said Myles, "you don't suppose this is going to come to violence, do you?"

"No, no," said the duke, waving his hand. "Don't worry, Myles. Roald will see sense long before then. He's a reasonable man, and it's obvious that change has been a long time coming in Tortall. And for all that Roger's posturing is irritating as hell, it's quite effective at convincing people."

"That's exactly what I'm worried about," the knight admitted. "I don't _want_ Roald to be won over by magic, or even by Roger's... whatever it is that he does. It just doesn't seem right."

"He has plenty of reasons to be convinced. If not Roger, then the displeasure of his most powerful vassals. That's fair and square, isn't it?"

Myles nodded.

"So, that's all there is to it!" Gareth shrugged.

He nodded again. "What shall I tell the page who asked me about it?"

"Oh, I don't know. Which page was it, anyway?"

"Alan of Trebond."

"Ah, _that_ one," Duke Gareth said knowingly. "He's stubborn, isn't he? Won't settle for less than the full truth and his every demand satisfied, I expect. Well, then. We'll just have to have a chat with Roger, won't we? And as for his plots," he clapped Myles on the shoulder. "We can tell him that we are absolutely sure they are nothing nefarious."

\---

_Dear Alan,_

_I hope this letter finds you well, and for that matter, that it finds you at all. I asked some peasant boy in one of the towns we passed to see it to you in Corus. If it does arrive, I expect it will arrive a while before we do, with all the baggage we have._

_Traveling with a group of thirty girls has not been pleasant. We're sleeping several to a room, which has been quite difficult for me, with my ... love of privacy, which you well know._

_We hired an escort of ten men to "guard" us. I have my doubts about what they can really do -- I would bet good silver that my Gift is more powerful than all of them put together -- but it's better than nothing, I suppose._

_I did a bit more research on you-know-who before we left. Did you know that the Trebond and Conte lines have a history of intermarriage? It's rather surprising, considering the things that you and I have noticed._

_The one bright spot in all this, which I am savoring with all my effort, is that while we are traveling, our dancing lessons have ceased. I take comfort in this, though I know that it is to my doom that I am traveling now._

_With love,_

_Your sister, Tamsin of Trebond_


	6. Chapter 6

Alanna stared up at the front of the room as she walked into class. Duke Roger was standing behind the podium, his dark hair flipped over one eye, blue eyes glittering like the sea. He was dressed in a bright yellow tunic with blue stripes. He had a satisfied half-smirk on his face, as always. It was about as infuriating as always, but somehow, it didn't hurt to look at him, or to be in the same room.

_He must have stopped the magic he was doing!_

As her classmates filed into the room, they, too, stopped and looked around, as if confused, before filing into their seats. Unlike Alanna, their confusion seemed less positive in nature; they entered the room with an enthusiastic grin on their faces, came in, and seemed to deflate just slightly. They were expecting something that just wasn't there.

When the class had arrived, Roger came out from behind the podium, pulled up a chair, and sat down in front of them as if to have a heart-to-heart chat.

"Class," he began, "today we should discuss a new type of magic, one that we haven't tried or even discussed before. The topic of which I am speaking is _mental_ magic.

"Mental magic, simply defined, is the use of the Gift to affect one's own or others' minds. It is, of course, one of the most powerful, elusive, and dangerous branches of magic. Do you all see why?"

There were a scattering of replies, mostly "No."

"Because," he said, standing up, "in all the world, the most powerful weapon that anyone can control is another person." And then he turned on the charm.

To the rest of the class, he must have looked beautiful, fascinating -- it must have been a trustworthy smile he evinced.

Alanna cried out in pain.

The class turned in their seats to look at her. Jonathan's face was dark, his blue eyes stormy.

"Sorry," she muttered, with a pained expression on her face. She had gotten used to tolerating Roger's charm spell during classes, but having it come on her suddenly like that was a rare shock.

To the surprise of everyone else in the room, Duke Roger laughed heartily. He turned off the charm again. Alanna felt suddenly that a great weight had been lifted from her, but she was still chagrined at her lack of self-control.

"Well, I see that my demonstration has had the intended effect!" he said, still smiling. "Excellent perception, Alan." The students shifted in their chairs, suddenly confused, and vaguely disappointed. "What the rest of you may not realize is that, just now, I was briefly using something called a _glamour._ It is a spell for improving others' perception of you. Think carefully about the implications of such a spell. It could be incredibly powerful, yet it could also facilitate great abuse. Imagine what it would feel like to have it used on you -- outside of a class demonstration, that is."

Alanna's eyes widened. Was he really going to pretend that he hadn't been doing the spell all this time?

"Of course, there are certain limitations to this spell, as with any magic," he went on, "and one of those is that you may find it hard to use on others with the Gift. For example, Alan. It appears that your Gift and mine are fundamentally incompatible. So what others might experience as a mild positive feeling towards me when I use the spell, you experience as painful. The same would be true for me if you were to use the spell."

His eyes, the same deep blue as Jonathan's, bored into her as he spoke. "Of course, _now that we both know_ of the effect that would have, neither of us will use glamours on each other. Right?" He smiled.

The other students laughed. Alanna forced a little chuckle. "Of course."

"Very good." He clapped his hands. "Now, let's have a more in-depth discussion of the ethics of glamours and when they would be appropriate to use..."

\---

Thom kicked his feet up against the opposite side of the wagon, putting his arms behind his head in a stretch. "By the Goddess, travel is dull. What I wouldn't give for a proper library."

"You said it," said Udara, from the other side of the wagon. Rowena, sitting next to her, elbowed her in the ribs.

"It's not _that_ bad," said Rosemund. The dark-skinned, curly-haired girl sat next to Thom in the back of the wagon, improbably managing some sort of embroidery on the roughly moving cart. "There's so many new things to see."

"New to you, maybe," Thom said loftily. "We're in Trebond lands now. My -- brother and I traveled all through here when we left home. It's nothing particularly interesting. Just forests and fields as far as the eye can see."

"There's value in forests and fields," she said. "They're the economic center of our society. In fact, Lady Dorothy of Veldine wrote in her treatise on fief management that 'the state of a holding's farms will tell you more about the health of its owner than their own home.'"

Thom waved a hand. "You can find out the state of your farms by asking. You don't have to _look_ at them yourself."

Rosemund stabbed her needle into the fabric and folded her arms. "A fine proposition. I'm certain that your vassals will always be loyal enough to tell you the exact extent of the truth on the matter, then?"

He grumbled. "Whatever. The point is, I would like to read a book I haven't read before. It's been _days._ "

"It's not so bad. At least you don't have to be in here with _you,_ " Rowena chimed in.

Rosemund and Thom both instantly glared at her. Their hair floated up and glowed in the colors of their respective magics - purple for him, yellow for her - reminding Rowena of her own prematurely shortened hair.

She paled slightly. "I mean, it's not as if we'll be going much longer," she said hurriedly. "It's not that far to Corus."

"And that'll be _so_ much better," Thom muttered.

"What, you're not enthralled by the charms of the big city?" said his -- fine, friend.

Thom gave her a look that could only be described as "deadly."

"Cheer up. There will be books!" said Rosemund. "And the same place to sleep, at least for a while, and everyone at the palace will be there. Your brother, for one."

"And Duke Roger," said Udara with a sigh.

Rosemund let out a huff of frustration. So much for her hard work.

"What _is_ your brother like, anyway?" Rowena asked. "Is he as bitchy as you?"

Thom didn't deign to answer.

"You're twins, right?" she said, like a dog grimly hanging onto a bone. "I bet he's a _great_ dancer. We'll find out, won't we?" She winked and elbowed her friend. Udara laughed.

"All right, that's enough," said Rosemund, but she was smiling. "Tamsin's brother can speak for himself when we get there."

\---

Duke Roger asked her to stay after class.

She'd been dreading that he might do this. She had no idea that he would stop so soon after Myles talked to him, or that he would bring it up in front of the class like that. She would have done _something_ to try to prepare for it -- rehearsed lines, practiced spells, hidden a few daggers about her person -- but now she was going to have to face him by herself, with no weapons, no backup, and no options.

She stood with feet apart, hands behind her back, looking down. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Please call me Roger, Alan," he said with a jovial smile. He pulled up a chair and sat down to face her. "I just wanted to chat a little bit with you about today's class. I wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about me."

"Wrong idea, sir?" she said stiffly.

He sighed. "Well, to tell you the truth, I was hoping I wouldn't have to spell it out."

He waited a few moments.

"What I'm talking about is the glamour spell," he said finally, when it became apparent that Alanna was refusing to speak. "You know about the times I've cast it, don't you?"

She allowed him a tiny nod, not knowing what else to do.

"Well..." he swallowed. "Alan, I'm terribly sorry for the effect that must have had on you. I had no idea my Gift would react with yours so violently. I'm honestly impressed by the amount of self-control it must have taken for you to tolerate that -- although in retrospect, this does explain a few outbursts of yours in my class." He smiled weakly. "I usually attribute that kind of behavior to a rush of boyish emotions."

Alanna remained silent, staring at the floor.

He shook his head. "You know, Alan, I think I was a lot like you when I was a boy."

"I doubt that very much sir," she said, unable to stop herself.

He chuckled. "Of course you do. But I see the parts of yourself that you find it difficult to deal with -- your temper, your powerful Gift, your intelligence. I know you must find me terribly irritating."

Her face reddened at the praise. Intelligent? She wasn't intelligent. _Thom_ was intelligent. She was just better at... some things. But she still didn't speak.

He examined her face. "We do have some things in common. I was hoping..." Duke Roger cleared his throat. "You see, _we all have secrets,_ " he enunciated. "I was hoping that you could be convinced to keep mine for me."

Alanna's head snapped up. He was staring directly into her eyes. _What did he know?_ If he knew her secret, why wouldn't he have revealed her already? What could he possibly have to gain by -- oh. Right. Her silence that he was trying to buy. But why not just kill her? Surely he could find the opportunity, if he needed to... This was all just too much for her!

"Why?" Her voice was hard. It wasn't the right thing to say, but she needed to know. "Why did you do it? What was it all for? What are you trying to do?"

He had been smiling his little half-smile all through his subtle threat, looking a bit pleading. "I'm just a very vain man, who's a bit bad with people," he said. "And any more than that is not anything that a page like yourself need know."

Really? _That_ was what he said to try to get her to stop investigating? But she said, "That's not good enough. I'll have to tell someone if you don't tell me the real reason."

"'Have to' and 'will' can be different things," he said lightly, but his face showed strain. He didn't want her to keep pushing, so she did.

"Not for me. I do what's right. And I don't think it's right for you to be _mind-controlling_ the heir to the throne!"

He paled, then his face went red, and his mouth set in a grim line. "It was just a vain flight of fancy," he said. "Nothing necessary at all. And if you want to know more, you'll have to ask your _friend_ Sir Myles."

He stood up. "Good afternoon, Alan. Think on what we talked about, and don't do anything rash before learning more. You wouldn't want to risk harming an innocent person."

He turned away from her and started reading his papers on the podium.

She walked out of the room, glancing over her shoulder every few steps, fearing something undefined.

\---

The first thing Alanna wanted to do was tell Jonathan. But she wasn't sure she should, after the veiled threats Duke Roger had made towards her, and moreover, it was hard for her to get a word in edgewise these days.

"Did you see the noble girls as they came into town?" Gary asked Jonathan with a gleam in his eyes. "I went down to see where they're staying. It's quite a nice place, you know. They have a whole wing of the Goddess's temple in Corus, it seems like. I watched them go in."

The three of them were strolling around one of the practice yards, as they often did in idle moments.

"I saw a few of them walking around the city when I visited this weekend," the prince replied. "No sign of a female Alan, though."

"Oh, _that_ will be _weird_ ," laughed Gary. "Guess she must keep to herself, eh?"

"She doesn't like crowds," Alanna grumbled.

Jonathan turned his penetrating blue eyes on her. "Are you and your sister very different? I expect it must be hard for you two, if people expect you to behave the same all the time."

"We're _very_ different," she said emphatically. "But... we have a few things in common. We both hate dancing, for one."

"I bet she's as stubborn as you are," said Gary, and ruffled her hair. She frowned at the older boy's blase attitude.

"Well, it'll certainly be interesting meeting her, and the other girls as well," Jonathan said thoughtfully. "Gary, do you have any siblings?"

"Nah," he answered. "It's just me and my father, since my mother passed. We get along well enough. It was a lot more fun being in the palace once all the pages my age arrived, back when I was just starting out."

" _Ralon_ has a sister," Alanna interjected. "Her name is Udara. She's the same year as I am."

Jon's eyebrows shot up. " _Really._ And she came to the palace? After what happened?"

She shrugged. "I suppose she deserves a chance to make it on her own merits. I don't think she gets along with my sister very well, but that might not be her fault."

Gary snickered. Then he punched Alanna in the arm. "So, what kind of girls do you like best? I need to know so I can keep an eye out for you. There's all sorts, you know."

She reddened. "I don't... I'm not..."

Jonathan shoved his friend. "Come on, lay off him. He can figure it out himself. Right, Alan?"

"Right," she mumbled.

"Now, _me_ , on the other hand," he continued. "I like redheads best."

"So, a female version of Alan, is what you're saying?" Gary chortled. "I don't know if he'll be so happy about you flirting with his sister!"

Alanna's head threatened to explode. She tried to mumble "my sister can find happiness wherever she so chooses," but the words came out as more of a strangled yelp.

"Well, I'll just have to take that as it comes," Jonathan said wisely. "How about yourself?"

"Oh, I don't have a particular type," Gary answered breezily. "What I like is a girl who can stand up for herself. We'll see what they're like when we finally meet them. Or perhaps I'll see if I can accidentally come upon them in the square one of these days."

Alanna managed to survive the remainder of the conversation, but barely.

\---

"Well, girls," said Daughter Dureen, "we have some fascinating work to do, now that we've arrived in Corus."

Dureen was one of the few instructors who had come with them from Mother of Mountains to the capital of Tortall. She gave them lessons in textile arts, and seemed thrilled to have the opportunity to come along.

"You see," she continued, "in the capital, we can see the finest examples of stitching, embroidery, and dressmaking that you are likely to find in all of Tortall. Since the king's court is here, all the finest seamstresses and tailors are as well. And that means _learning opportunities_!" She beamed. "To that end, I've brought in an example of a very fine brocade from the market here, to use as a demonstration piece. Your task today will be to replicate the pattern of stitching in as much detail as you can. Please pass it around, and feel free to ask me any questions; I'll be walking around to assist you, after you have a little time to get started."

She handed the brocade to one student, then sat down and began to stitch on some project of her own, humming merrily to herself. Thom found it almost disturbing how much the woman seemed to enjoy her job.

He himself was not so privileged. Though he didn't find them quite as repellent as Alanna did, he did think textile arts were rather dull. He used Daughter Dureen's class as an opportunity to think about what spells he was working on, a purpose which it served no more than adequately.

Some days, though, were worse, because most of the girls used the class as an excuse to gossip. And since they had come to Corus, it seemed like gossip was the only thing they did.

Mirabelle started it this time. The blonde girl seemed virtually bursting with energy, and spoke almost as soon as Daughter Dureen bent over her sewing. "Did you _see_ the pages?! There were two of them hanging around the palace gates as we came in! They were so handsome!!"

"How did you know they were pages and not just layabouts?" Thom interjected, but no one listened to him.

"I liked the dark one," said another girl. "His eyes were so beautiful. I've never seen a boy with _eyelashes_ like that before." Two other girls sighed in agreement.

"I think I caught sight of the prince," Rowena said smugly. "He has the Conte eyes, you know. Blue as the sea. He waved at me as we went by."

"How do you know he wasn't waving at _me_?" Udara objected.

"I _saw_ where he was looking!" she protested.

While all this was happening, Rosemund scooted her chair closer to Thom's and tapped him on the shoulder. When she got his attention, she made a circular motion around her ear with her finger. Thom rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement.

"I saw a red-haired boy when I was in the market," one of the girls said. "He was dressed finely, like a page -- he had purple eyes, too. Just like you, Tamsin."

"That would be her brother, I expect," Udara informed her. "Purple eyes are pretty uncommon. It's a Trebond trait."

Thom paused, then bent over his sewing again, trying to pretend not to listen.

"He looked a treat, anyway," said the girl. "I'd love to dance with _him._ "

Thom stabbed himself with a needle and yelped. He shook his hand out with a cry of pain, and muttered imprecations on the girl who was speaking.

Udara was watching him closely. "What, not interested in seeing your brother dance with somebody else? Not used to him having _other_ friends?"

"Yes, maybe he has more discerning taste in company than you do," chimed in Rowena, throwing a disdainful look at Rosemund.

"My brother doesn't like to dance," Thom said stiffly.

"Well, we'll just have to see about that, won't we!" said Udara. The other girls giggled.

Thom was not entirely sure how he managed to get through the ensuing conversation without killing anyone there.


	7. Chapter 7

A few days later, Thom finally was forced to do something he had been trying to avoid ever since they'd arrived in Corus. He left the temple.

They were staying in an extra wing of the temple to the Mother Goddess in Corus. It was more cramped than their quarters at Mother of Mountains, but still spacious enough to stay and work. But there were no gardens, and nowhere peaceful to wander and think. There was only the temple itself, which was often full of parishioners wandering around making a nuisance of themselves, and the city. Thom would have stayed in his room the entire time, perhaps venturing out occasionally to obtain books, if it had been up to him. But today, he was on a mission.

So he stepped out into the crowds of the city, hoping not to be too overwhelmed.

To his surprise, the city was less loud and dirty than he'd been expecting -- certainly less so than the City of the Gods. It turned out that Corus was a smaller city, quieter, and with more wealthy residents, as a rule. So there were fewer people standing in the streets, fewer people shouting, fighting, or selling wares at the top of their lungs. Still too many for Thom's taste, of course, but he would take what he could get. He hitched up his skirts to avoid the grime of the streets and embarked on his journey.

He hurried along the streets of the city, hunting for its center. Eventually he turned up at the main market. He consulted the crumpled scrap of paper in his hand, and turned towards the palace, then turned directly opposite and marched down the street in that direction. This street was very quiet, and looked prosperous; the houses were large, though crammed in close together, and they had real glass in the windows. He strolled down it for a block, came to the next street, consulted the piece of paper, and turned right.

At last, he reached the house with a small black symbol painted above the door. It was a snake wrapped around a staff.

Before he could knock, the door opened in front of him. The person who opened it was an older woman, dressed in simple but good-quality robes, who was smiling warmly. "Why, hello! It's so good to see you. Please, do come in." He followed her into the house. Once she'd shut the door, she added "She's been so looking forward to seeing you. She'll be thrilled that you're finally here. My name is Mrs. Cooper, by the way."

"Pleasure to meet you, madam," he said, a little dazed by the warmth of her greeting. "Are you... any relation to an Alys Cooper, by the way?"

She wrinkled her brow. "Alys, Alys... I don't believe so? But I--"

She was interrupted by Alanna throwing herself into the room. "THOM!"

Once they'd gotten past the initial pleasantries, the awkward sibling hug, the shouting -- maybe just a few tears -- the twins sat at Mrs. Cooper's kitchen table, while she puttered around the kitchen making them tea.

"You have to tell me everything. There's so much we need to talk about -- but first, what do you think of Corus?" Alanna demanded.

"It's all right," he said grudgingly. "Better than the City of the Gods, anyway. Not so loud."

"What is the convent like? Dreadfully dull?"

"It's _quiet,_ " he said primly. "I like it there." (This was in flagrant disregard of the many things he disliked about it, but it was vital for him to uphold the truth that it was better than the city, and above all, far better than the palace.) "How about the palace? Are you enjoying brutalizing your fellows on a regular basis?"

"Oh, yes," she grinned. "Not that you're as much of a stranger to a spot of conflict as you act like you are, Thom. You never did tell me what you did to those girls."

To her surprise, he actually _blushed._ "It wasn't that impressive," he said modestly.

"What was it? Out with it already."

"I -- um -- I cut their hair off."

Mrs. Cooper spun around. "You _what?_ "

Alanna's jaw dropped. "What do you mean? How could you -- What did--"

"It was a spell Rosemund and I found in one of the books in the library," he said. "Er, we had to change it a bit. But yeah, basically. I mean, Rosemund helped a bit. Not that much. We just sort of... did it. To five girls all at once, when everyone was watching, during the spring demonstrations. It was quite shocking."

"That is... _creative,_ " said Alanna, with a mix of admiration and horror.

"They don't bother me anymore," he said. "I spent a few weeks confined to my chambers afterward, and they left me alone after that. Well, not totally. But I can shut them up by glowing at them a bit these days."

His sister shook her head. "Wow."

"What about you?"

"Oh, I broke Ralon's arm," she said breezily. "And he left court, he's probably destroyed any chance he had at getting in the royal family's good graces."

Thom shuddered. "You had to _touch_ him?"

"Oh, come on, it's not _that_ bad," Alanna said. "At least there wasn't any blood this time."

He shook his head. "Well, I prefer my way of doing things, but I can respect that you certainly got the job done."

"You too!"

They smiled at each other.

The older healing woman, whose home was currently occupied by these two demon children, paused in making the two demons tea and stared at them.

Finally she poured out two cups from the teapot and served them.

Eleni Cooper was the mother of the King of Thieves in Corus, whose domain extended throughout Tortall, so she was no strange to bizarre and dangerous people. But she had to admit, these two noble children were a little excessively weird and proud of the enemies they had vanquished even by her standards, especially when you took into account that they were only thirteen years old. She decided to move right along with the conversation.

"So," she said brightly, "I know some of your friends here, Alanna. What about you, Thom? Have you made friends at the convent yet?"

He looked down into his teacup and sipped at it. "Not exactly."

Alanna perked up immediately. "Not _exactly_?! You have! What's her name?"

"She blackmailed me," he muttered.

She cocked her head to the side. "Huh. To do what?"

"To let her help me with the prank. It was Rosemund. She figured out that I was planning something, and she figured out..." He looked up at her, and she felt a sudden spike of concern. His purple eyes were tilted downwards in uncharacteristic sadness. "She figured out that I'm really a boy. She said she'd turn me in if I didn't let her come along."

His sister paused, and took a sip of tea. Then she said, "But she didn't, did she?"

"Obviously not," Thom snapped, returning to his ordinary prickliness. "I wouldn't be _here_ if she had, would she? Not like I would come within fifty miles of Corus if I didn't have to."

"Oh, you'd still have to," Alanna said lightly. "I would absolutely require that you come visit me from time to time."

"Pffft," he said, but didn't argue.

"But you're friends now, aren't you?" she asked, watching him closely. "Does she like you?" She wasn't even going to bother asking if he liked her, considering how Thom would never admit to having 'soft' feelings for anyone.

"I guess," he said, sipping his tea.

She leaned back in her chair. "Wow. Sounds like a beautiful friendship."

He glared at her, but she could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"So, tell me about the boys at the palace," he said. "How many of them can you beat up at once?"

"Oh, lots," she waved a hand. "But I have friends, too! Prince Jonathan and Gary, mostly, but there's Raoul, and some others. Mostly I'm friends with the older boys. I'm hoping one of them will take me for his squire next year, after we graduate from the first phase of our training."

He raised his eyebrows. "Squire? Wouldn't that put you in rather, you know..." He trailed off. "Close quarters?"

She blushed. "I _suppose,_ if you must think of it that way," she said primly. "I expect I will be able to handle it, however it goes. I've gotten perfectly adept at handling myself, in, um, awkward situations."

"Oh yes! Speaking of awkward situations," he said. "I haven't gotten any letters from you since we left Mother of Mountains. Did Duke Roger get to the palace?"

It was as if night fell suddenly on his twin's face. " _Yes,_ " she said, the one syllable somehow managing to contain months' worth of anguish, resentment, and terrifying confusion.

"I see," said Thom. And he did. "Did you... Did something happen?"

"Yes," she said again. "Something is going on, Thom, and I don't know what it is, and -- and _Myles_ is in on it!" she almost wailed. "Myles is the one knight I thought I could rely on to tell me the truth about everything, and he _didn't_ , and I haven't talked to him about it, because I don't know how, but I don't know what I'll do if it turns out he's... I don't know, plotting against the throne or something."

Mrs. Cooper very slowly and quietly backed out of the room.

"Okay... Start at the beginning," Thom said. "What exactly transpired between you and Duke Roger, and this Myles person?"

Alanna managed to back up to the beginning of her story, starting with Roger arriving and his presence being painful and unpleasant, then her conversation with Myles, and finally Roger's veiled threats and insinuations about Myles. "But I don't know why Myles would ever ... I don't think he even _likes_ Roger. None of this makes any sense."

Thom interlaced his fingers in front of his teacup. "Just because he doesn't like him, doesn't mean he wouldn't work with him if he felt he had to. We all have to do things we don't like sometimes for bigger reasons."

She hummed to herself. "You're right, but... I didn't get the sense that that was what was going on. It seemed to me like he didn't _trust_ him, not just that he didn't like him. It doesn't make sense to work on a secret agenda with someone you don't trust, does it?"

"Maybe," said her brother slowly. "Sometimes it does. If the thing you're doing is important, and if you trust the person to do what you expect, at least on this one thing."

"So what could it be?" Alanna demanded.

The twins stared at each other across the table. Gazing into the violet eyes of either of them would have been odd and disconcerting to anyone else, but to the two of them, it was just the way they communicated. At this moment, it was as if they'd never been separated.

"Something important," Thom said.

"Something that's for the good of Tortall."

"Something that King Roald really wouldn't like if he heard about it."

"Something we need to find out about."

They paused.

"You should really talk to Myles about this," he said.

"I know," she said sadly.

"Do you want me to come with you? I can be backup firepower, if nothing else. I can take him at range while you disable him and take any front-loaded hits."

She punched him in the arm. "Thom! I'm not going to get attacked by _Myles_!"

"Hey, I'm just considering all the worst-case scenarios, here!" he protested. "You were the one so worried about how this means you can't actually trust him!"

"I guess I'm not _that_ worried," she mumbled. "I just don't understand it. And I don't like it."

"Don't feel bad, sis. There are _lots_ of things you don't understand."

She punched him again, got zapped for her trouble, then wrestled his arm against the table.

That matter resolved, they continued their discussion.

"I don't know if he'll want to tell you everything, given that you're friends with the crown prince," Thom pointed out.

Alanna countered that he would damn well tell her or she could go straight to the crown prince and King Roald with everything she knew. He admitted this was better than nothing, but suggested that most of what they knew so far was hearsay and suggestive evidence, nothing really decisive enough to actually go to the king with.

"Maybe we need to collect more evidence first, then," Alanna said.

Thom agreed.

"Maybe you should talk to Duke Roger. He doesn't suspect you of anything."

Thom made a face like he'd just bitten into a lemon. Alanna cheered internally, because she knew that meant he just needed to be beaten down a little more and he would do it.

"Only if you help me figure out what I'm going to say to him," he said.

She agreed. If they were going to do this, they would do it together.


	8. Chapter 8

The twins thought that it would be difficult to find a time for Thom to approach Duke Roger, given that he had been teaching the pages since he arrived in Corus. Unfortunately, they discovered, it would not be nearly as difficult as they thought.

"This is going to be _incredible,_ " Rowena crowed as the group of girls followed Mistress Smith through the streets of Corus towards the palace. "Dancing practice with all the most eligible young men in Tortall!"

"Less fun than a _real_ dance," said one of her friends.

"Less fun, maybe, but there will be more opportunities. After all, in dancing classes, you _rotate,_ " pointed out Udara. "That means everyone gets a chance to dance with the prince."

"The prince isn't a page," Thom said, staring straight ahead. "He might not be there. The squires get called away by their knights all the time."

A general moan of disappointment went up among the girls.

"You hope he won't be there, don't you, Tamsin?" sneered Rowena. "You just don't want to find out how few boys would actually want to--"

Rosemund tapped her on the shoulder and gave her a meaningful look. She turned away with a "Hmpf!"

The dark-skinned girl glanced back worriedly at her friend. Tamsin had been acting strangely ever since she -- he-- went to see her brother. And today's dancing practice seemed to have set her off even more than usual. She never liked dancing classes back at the convent, but most of the time, this meant that she whined and complained about them incessantly; today, she was almost silent.

Rosemund slowed down to wait for her friend, then whispered in her ear. "Tamsin, are you all right?"

The red-haired girl -- boy -- gave her a strained smile. "I'll be fine. Just not looking forward to today." She spoke in a serious, quiet voice that was so out of character it gave Rosemund the creeps.

"Are you _ill_?" she whispered furiously.

"No."

Rosemund looked around frantically, trying to figure out what she could say to Tamsin. "Tell me what's going on."

She shook her head. "I can't. I... I'm sorry."

She was _sorry_?! Rosemund had never heard Tamsin apologize for anything, and she had seen her do quite a lot of things that merited an apology more than this did. "Tell me or else... or else you know what!"

Tamsin's violet eyes focused on her sharply. "You wouldn't."

"I would if I thought you were going to get yourself killed!"

Tamsin turned her head forward. "Rosemund, are you my friend?"

She was at a loss for words. This was so far outside the range of normal behavior for Tamsin that she had no idea what the girl would say or do next. Or what effect Rosemund's own words would have on her. Finally she said, "Yes," because it was true, and that seemed to be the best she could do at the moment.

"Then don't. Just let me do this."

Rosemund fell silent.

All the rest of the walk there, all she could think was that Tamsin had gone to see her brother, and they had talked, and this was his fault. It was his fault that Tamsin wasn't talking to her, and was going to go off and do something stupid and get herself -- himself -- in trouble, or even hurt, or something, and she had no way to help or even know what was going on.

And she was going to make him suffer for it.

\---

Alanna and Thom faced each other across the practice room, as two men about to be hanged would. They met each other's eyes, and knew they were both doomed.

"Wow, that's your sister?" Gary whispered. "Impressive."

Jonathan chuckled. "Lay off him, Gary." But he didn't deny it.

Alanna's face heated up as she pondered the fact that Jonathan thought her twin sister looked nice, and she was, in point of fact, a female version of herself, ergo...

On the other side of the room, Rosemund had given up on Thom, so she glared daggers across the room at his -- her -- brother Alan instead. Alan looked so red he was about to explode. Maybe he, too, was anticipating something bad happening. If _only_ Rosemund knew _what_ was coming, she could have helped ward off this trouble, but noooo, the Desperate Duo had to come up with some ridiculous plan to go it alone and never include anyone else or else they'd lose all their cred for being complete idiot loners who couldn't take help.

She stood up straight. It was important for her to show the Terrible Twosome that they weren't important to her at all. She was definitely _not_ thinking about them, and would have an excellent time dancing with neither of them.

"All right, everyone," said Duke Roger, clapping his hands. "Line up in single file across the room. Go on." As they started to shuffle around, he added "You'll be dancing first with whoever is across from you." The shuffle intensified into more of a stampede as boys and girls fought for their preferred places. When all was said and done, Alanna and Thom ended up on complete opposite sides of the room from each other.

"Very good," he said, eyes sparkling. "Now, everyone shift down one place."

\---

After about two hours of the humiliating torture that was dancing lessons with boys, Thom was about ready to burn the palace to the ground. The innocent bystanders within were only lucky that he had managed to avoid having to dance with Alanna, which might have driven him straight over the edge. Fortunately, Alanna felt the same way, and the two of them had formed a cooperation pact to threaten, shove, and if necessary, body-check their fellow dancing students out of place to avoid that particular circumstance at all costs. It had worked, just barely. Thom thought Roger might have noticed, but it seemed he had decided not to say anything about it. A wise choice on his part.

As the lesson ended and most of the students filed out, Thom went to the duke and stood, waiting for him to be done saying his goodbyes.

"Yes, Tamsin?"

"I have... something I wanted to talk to you about," he said demurely, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor. "Could we go to your office? It's rather private."

"Certainly," he said magnanimously, and not without curiosity.

They arrived at his office. It was richly decorated, like many in the palace, but sparsely so; just one lamp on the desk, a couple of finely-woven rugs, and one tapestry adorned the room. Roger's desk was clean of papers. The duke sat in a tall, green-cushioned chair behind it, and offered Tamsin the high-backed chair of polished wood in front.

"So, what may I help you with?"

"I was wondering," he cleared his throat. It galled him to act so shy, but he knew that the duke expected it of a girl his age, and was keenly aware of the older man's sharp intellect and dangerous magical power if he suspected Thom of bad behavior. "Do you know much about, er, Sir Myles, sir?"

"Sir Myles?" The duke seemed genuinely surprised. "Why, I suppose all of the knights of Tortall know each other in some capacity. And of course, we've spoken several times since I arrived here in Corus, since we're both acting as instructors for the pages. He's a good man, very kind, loves his books. Why do you ask?"

Thom lowered his eyes even further, and mumbled, "He was asking me some odd things the other day."

"Odd things?" Thom saw, through his lashes, the duke's deep blue eyes focused carefully on him. "When did you see Sir Myles? Aren't you staying at the convent?"

 _Oh, crap._ "Yes, sir. I was walking through the city, and I passed him in the street. He stopped me to say hello. He wanted to know..." Thom paused for effect. This was getting rather tiresome. "He wanted to know what I thought about King Roald."

Duke Roger had looked curious at the beginning of the conversation, and as it continued, he had progressed to looking downright bemused. "Really," he said, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I just don't know what to do!" he said. "Don't you think it's always important to express your loyalty to the king? It was so strange of him to be, well, you know, _critical,_ like that."

The duke folded his arms. He was starting to go from looking bemused to looking maybe, just a tiny little bit, suspicious.

Thom worried he may have overstayed his welcome. He rose. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you with this. It's obviously a trivial thing. I'll just leave!"

"No, no! Sit." The duke pointed back at the chair, and it was clear he didn't mean it as a suggestion. Thom smoothed his skirts behind him and sat.

"Why do you think Myles was asking you about that?" the duke asked gently.

"That's why I came to you. I don't know. It was all so confusing. I didn't know what to say." He tried to look as if he was really as stupid as he sounded, unsure if it was working.

"Do you think it's all right to criticize the king?"

"I... I don't know," he fluttered his lashes. "Is it?"

Duke Roger pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tamsin, Tortall is a country where lords have duties to their vassals, just as vassals have a duty to their liege. It wouldn't exactly work very well if a vassal couldn't ask their lord to do something different, could it?" _Didn't you learn this in your economics classes?_ the duke wondered. Roger knew that fief management and mathematics were taught at the convent, and any noble girl of Tamsin's age should know these things. Tamsin was acting quite bizarre.

"I suppose. But that's different from saying you don't -- you don't like your lord, isn't it? That's just impolite. Or that they--" Tamsin blushed.

"That they what?"

The girl fell silent.

"Never mind," she said. "I don't want to get Myles in trouble."

He stared at her. She was looking down into her lap, red hair falling almost over her face, violet eyes hidden behind the curtain of hair.

He waited.

Finally he burst out, "What, did he threaten rebellion or something? Say the king needed to be deposed? Say that his vassals deserve more powers? What?"

Tamsin looked up suddenly, violet eyes bright, and tilted her head to the side. "His vassals deserve more powers? What does that mean?"

And that was when he realized he had made a mistake.

He stood up. "All right, Tamsin. I think it's time you left. I won't be able to help you with your problems with Sir Myles."

"But I--"

" _Leave,_ " he said, and put the force of his Gift behind it. She cried out, just as her brother had, and fled.

He sat back down in his chair, and put his head in his hands.

Children? Since when were children part of this? What were they even trying to accomplish? He couldn't fathom. Maybe someone had put them up to it. Roald, or Cunegund, perhaps.

One thing was for sure -- he'd have to figure out how to get them out of it before they got themselves hurt.


	9. Chapter 9

Sir Myles of Olau had another chess session with his student Alan some weeks after the last one. He had noticed that Duke Roger seemed a little less thrillingly charming than before in the intervening time, and was looking forward to having this little matter entirely resolved.

He was in for a bit of a surprise.

They were partway through the game, and hadn't spoken about much of interest. Myles asked Alan about classes; he -- she -- shrugged and demurred to respond in much detail. Alan had mentioned before that he disliked dancing class, and Myles suspected that his reluctance to speak was partly due to that. His attempts to draw Alan out on the subject of Duke Roger met with no success.

Alan asked Myles how his classes were going. He said they were fine. The pages were about the same as they ever were.

Then Alan asked, "What about research? Are you looking into anything new?"

"Well, I've been studying the subject of law in ancient times," he offered. "It's an interesting subject, since the ancients had laws more complex than ours. Their social customs were very different, which affected their system of law."

"How so?"

"Well, here's one example. There was an ancient practice called _democracy,_ in which every able-bodied man in a particular city met to make collective decisions about the city's military and laws. They used a procedure called 'voting', where each man was asked which option he preferred of several courses of action, and then whichever got the most votes would be selected. Not very applicable to us today, of course," he added. "Tortall is far too large for such a system, though it might work in small communities. But I doubt anyone would particularly want to use it. It's fascinating how they were able to make such a strange system work, though."

"Hmm," said Alan. He seemed to be thinking. He moved his knight.

Myles was in the middle of considering his next move when Alan spoke again.

"Myles, are you sure you're not thinking about how the ancient practices could be used in Tortall?"

"What?"

"I mean," said the page slowly, "Had you given any thought to, say... removing some powers from the king, and distributing them among his direct vassals?"

Myles stared at her.

She stared back.

The older knight pinched the bridge of his nose, then sighed, then put his hand back on the table so she could see his face. He looked...

Sad?

Afraid?

"Why are you asking me about this, Alan?" he said with deadly quiet.

She shifted in her seat, suddenly realizing that she was talking to a teacher and making statements about a subject she knew far less about than he did. "I was just wondering. You know, if you'd ever thought about that."

"No," he said. "You weren't. Where did you hear that phrase? I don't think you came up with it on your own."

She looked down.

"Was it Roger?" he said, getting desperate.

"He just --" she burst out. "I'm sorry, Myles! But I had to know what was going on, because he told me... he said something about you. It sounded suspicious. Like you were plotting something _with_ him. Only I didn't know what to do or whether I could talk to you about it so... so my-- my sister went and talked to him about it. And that's something he said to her. All right? But you can't just not tell me anymore, because... because I can go to Jonathan with what I know!" she finished weakly.

He stared at her. His face was grim. "You know, you're not a very good liar, Alan," he said. "Which is yet another reason for you not to get involved with this. It's really not anything you need to worry about."

"That's just what Duke Roger said!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose again. "Look, Alan, I'm sorry. Let me try to explain this in a way that will make sense to you." He took a deep breath. "I've been talking to Duke Roger -- that is, he and I and some other knights in Tortall have been talking to each other about things we think are important for the good of the realm. An equitable distribution of powers is one thing; taxation not being too excessive is another. The specifics aren't important. What's important is we were planning to _talk_ to King Roald about them, that's all, and discuss the possibility of changing a few things about how the court works and the rights and responsibilities of Tortall's lords. That's all. And Duke Roger gets a little carried away with trying to get people to like him sometimes, and he didn't realize his spell would affect you. He's been very nervous about our discussion with King Roald, and I suppose he thought being closer friends with Jonathan might help it go better for him. It's nothing to worry about."

"Oh," said Alan. "All right."

Myles paused. He wasn't prepared for that.

"I mean, you could have just told me that in the first place," the page went on. "Why not just tell me that?"

"It's just a little, er, nerve-wracking, is all," said the teacher. "We have no intention of doing anything drastic or rash, but I wouldn't want our plans leaking out before they're ready. So I'd appreciate it if you could keep this confidential for right now, Alan, if you don't mind. You'll be able to talk about it soon enough, but in the meantime it's important to us that it stay private."

"I see," she said slowly. "You don't want me to talk to Jonathan about it."

"Not yet," he said hastily. "Once we've made our proposal, it won't be a problem, of course. I just wouldn't want anyone getting the wrong idea about what we're going to do, do you see what I mean?"

"I guess." She kicked her feet back and forth under the table. "Maybe. I think I should at least tell Jonathan about the charm spell Roger was using, though."

Myles winced. "I... suppose I can't say that would be unfair," he said reluctantly. "But I rather wish you would wait."

The page folded her arms. "Wait? How long?"

"Until the end of the school year at least," he said, trying to sound firm.

"Hmm," she said. She didn't respond for a while. Then at last she said, "All right. It's your move."

\---

"Sounds to me like they're planning a rebellion," Thom said. He was chewing on one of the sandwiches Mrs. Cooper had made the two of them, lounging on her kitchen chair and letting his skirts sprawl over it every which way.

"What? That's not it at all! Myles said all they wanted to do was talk!"

Thom waved a hand dismissively. "Oh sure, all the most powerful lords in Tortall having a friendly chat with their monarch about what they want him to do differently. Nothing could be more innocent. You're right, of course. My mistake. Nothing rebellious or strange or anything in that what-so-ever." He tore another bite off his sandwich.

"It's not like that," she defended. "It's... It's... They're not going to use force or weapons. So it doesn't have to be like that. Rebellion means actually using military force."

Thom shrugged. "I suppose if you're going to think about it _simplistically._ You're right that open rebellion would be a lot worse for everyone else than them taking King Roald in the back and having a nice chat with him. Fewer casualties, better harvest. But there's a lot of similarities, when all's said and done."

Alanna had a look on her face like someone had just shot her horse. "But they're not the same at _all_!" she wailed.

"You think about it your way, I'll think about it mine." He took a sip of tea and said, "How are your extra dancing practices going? Stabbed anyone yet?"

She crossed her arms, still not sure she approved of the subject change. "Not yet. It's going as well as can be expected. They're all falling over themselves to dance with you, of course."

Alanna felt the warm glow of gratification as her brother coughed, choking on his tea. "You-- you did that on purpose, didn't you!"

"Yep."

" _Anyway,_ " he went on, "the same could be said of you, though of course ... well, there's Rosemund. She knows about you and me."

Alanna nodded. "Must be a little odd for her then. I've danced with her a few times. She's good."

"Is she?" Thom said with slightly excessive casualness.

Alanna surveyed his face, a smile tugging at her lips. He ducked his head downwards, drinking deeply from his teacup so he wouldn't have to look at her. "Why, yes," she answered. "Rosemund is quite a good dancer. In fact, I might have to ask her to dance a few times when we're at the end-of-year ball. I think she can appreciate _gentlemanly_ behavior."

Her brother went red. "You-- I see," he said in a choked tone. He couldn't even object to her saying that, because doing so would admit how he felt about Rosemund! It was adorable.

"But then, perhaps I can't impress her that much," she continued. "She's a sorceress. I expect she would be more impressed by advanced magical prowess, and Duke Roger despairs of my ever really training my Gift to be noteworthy, though of course I have the raw power of the Trebonds. She would want a partner with some firepower."

Her twin's face strained with the effort of screwing itself up so that she wouldn't see the smile trying to make its way out. "Mmmmm," he said, in an attempt to be non-committal.

"So I suppose I'll have to introduce her to Jonathan."

" _You--_ _I'll--_ "

"You really like her, don't you?"

His face was bright red, but he couldn't exactly hide it at this point. The angry pressure deflated out of him suddenly like a balloon. "Yes," he muttered sullenly, so quietly that she almost couldn't hear him.

"I knew it!" she crowed.

" _Don't_ let it go to your head," he said. His hair glowed violet with warning.

"Don't worry," she said cheerfully, "my head is full of exactly what it should be. Now, let's talk strategy. Does Rosemund like flowers?"

\---

After weeks of trying to catch him after class, Alanna finally managed to get a moment alone with Jonathan.

"So, er, I haven't talked to you alone in a while. How are things going?" she asked, in a man-to-man, bro-to-bro kind of way. Definitely one hundred percent normal, fellow-page behavior, and not in any way unusual.

"Oh, they're going great!" he answered. "Dancing lessons are just fascinating, don't you think?"

"Oh... yes."

He leaned in confidentially. "I think that girl Rowena might be, you know, _interested_ in me. She keeps looking at me in this way, and, you know," he waved his arms. "It just seems like it's different from how the other girls do. I suppose I'm not an expert in these things."

"Me neither," said Alanna. Her face was red. _Think bro thoughts._

"I don't know how I feel about it," he admitted. "She is rather pretty. But I also, er... Well." He blushed. "Your sister is as well. But she doesn't seem to like me very much. Or dancing, or anything, really."

"Yes, that's quite like her."

"Hmm. What kind of person will she marry, do you think?"

"Oh... Someone very much like her, I suppose. Magically inclined, intelligent, huge pain in the butt."

He laughed. "You two have an interesting relationship, don't you."

"You could say that." She decided to try for a subject change. "How are things with your cousin Roger?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Not the best at the moment, I'm afraid," he said ruefully.

"Oh really?" Alanna tried not to look too happy at this development. "Why's that?"

He studied her face, then decided he would pretend not to notice. "He's been acting sort of oddly lately, is all. Especially around the other pages."

Alanna took a deep breath. "Well, that's probably because he stopped casting a charm spell all the time."

" _What?_ " Jonathan stared at her. "Alan, what are you talking about? Roger would never do a thing like that. That's so... weird, and creepy."

She shook her head. "Yeah, right. Never, except for how he was doing it for the first entire two months he was here. Remember that time he cast one in class and I yelled? I can tell when he's doing it, because his Gift interacts with mine. And he was doing it a lot, until he found out that I could tell. It's why I hate being around him so much."

His face grew darker and darker as she spoke. "You know, just because I am having ... a ... thing with Roger right now ... doesn't mean you can go around telling lies like that about my cousin!"

"I'm not telling anyone else," she said patiently. "I'm just telling you, because..." _Because you're the person who needs to hear most that Roger isn't perfect._ "Because you need to know the truth. It's important. I'm not saying Roger is a bad person or anything, but there's something weird going on with him, and I don't know what it is yet. And since you know him better, you're in a better position than anyone to find out."

Jonathan shook his head. "Look, Alan, I don't know why you have this thing about Roger, but I can't--"

She lost patience. "Oh, and it's so weird that I have a _thing_ about someone who causes me _physical pain_ when he uses his Gift?"

"He didn't know that when he was doing it!"

"Maybe, but you wouldn't believe me! And he sure knew that he was manipulating his students, you included!"

Jonathan turned on his heel. "If you're going to be like that, you can stay here by yourself. I'll go visit the city."

"Jonathan--"

But he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Alanna didn't speak with Jonathan in private for some time after that.

Her brother didn't see her often, either. They were both kept quite busy by their classes. They saw each other in the group dance lessons with the noble girls and the pages, but those were few and far between, and they had a tacit agreement to stay far from each other during them in any case.

She wasn't sure what was going on with her brother and Rosemund, either. She tried to ask the girl about it, sometimes, when they got matched with each other in dancing class, but the dark-skinned girl refused to engage in conversation. She seemed almost as stubborn as Thom was.

For both twins, life seemed to have settled into a routine, of sorts. Then, as spring turned to summer, things suddenly changed.

The first time it happened, Thom was in sewing class. Mirabelle, one of Rowena's annoying friends, called out without warning "Daughter Dureen, I'm not--" and then, before she could finish, her hand dropped gently to the fabric she was working on, and she hit the floor before anyone could reach her.

She fell deeply ill. It was a strange sickness, not one anyone had seen before. She didn't cough or sneeze, but was filled with a strange heat and misery, unable to sleep or do anything much but lie in bed, tossing and turning. She sweated and always complained of being too cold.

But Mirabelle was only the first. Two others in their class fell ill; several of the pages; people in the city; and even a few of the lords and ladies of King Roald's court caught the strange illness, which had begun to be called the Sweating Sickness. The healers at the palace were at a loss; they helped ease the pain, and helped the victims sleep better, but had no idea what was happening, or how to fix it.

After two months, the first victim of the sickness died.

That was when people started getting scared.

\---

Thom went to visit Mrs. Cooper in the days after the Sweating Sickness claimed its first victim, with the intention of finding out what was going on.

She let him in with a distracted, "Oh, it's you. Come in, then, what is it?"

"I wanted to speak with you," he said, following her inside. "About the sickness, and what its source and nature might be."

"Well, that's interesting, but I've had my hands full here, and I need to eat lunch just now," she said, going to the table where there was a half-eaten plate waiting for her. "You'll excuse my rudeness. Mr. Gardiner down the street is waiting for me."

"It's important," Thom said, not bothering to ask her how she was doing or what it was that Mr. Gardiner needed. "I think the illness might not be ... natural."

She glanced up at him briefly, before shoveling more food into her mouth. "What do you mean?" she said through her half-full mouth.

"Well, you haven't ever seen anything like it before, have you?"

"I haven't," she said. "But that's not that strange." She gestured with a fork. "New illnesses pop up from time to time. Sometimes people don't make it through. We do what we can."

"But I..." He hesitated. "I feel strange whenever I'm around someone who has it."

She raised an eyebrow. "Well, we're not all cut out to be healers," she said shortly.

"That's not what I mean! It reminds me of..." _Of Duke Roger._ "It reminds me of how I feel when I'm around certain kinds of magic."

"Oh, magic," she said dismissively. She shook her head. "Look, Thom. I appreciate your concern, but sickness just happens sometimes, alright? We can't always predict or explain it. And people need care now, so I've got to go." She rose from her chair.

"But I need to ask you--"

"It's not the time," she interrupted. "Talk to Alanna about it, why don't you. Though it'd be a shame if she weren't helping, with the training she got from Maude Tanner back in the village. Did you get that too, by the way?" She gave him a stern look. "You should think about helping, then. Might be able to actually do something, with the Gift you two have."

She shooed him out the door as she walked out herself, shutting it firmly behind the two of them. "Come on then."

He was left standing in front of the door, staring at her retreating back. "Yes," he mumbled to himself. "With the Gift we have, we ought to be able to do _something._ "

\---

Thom had taken an intellectual interest in the sickness, but mostly lost it after Mrs. Cooper rebuffed his attempts to help. Then, a couple weeks after Thom's conversation with the healing woman, his world fell apart.

\---

He knocked gently on the door, trying to tread the line between "too soft to hear" and "loud enough to wake someone sleeping."

The door swung open. A serving girl -- Thom didn't know her name -- was behind it. "Are you here to visit?"

He nodded.

The girl gestured him inside, making a "shh" motion with her lips. "She's tired, so try not to be too long." He nodded again.

He walked lightly into the room, looked around, and picked up a chair from the other side of the room, moving it across the floor slowly so that he wouldn't bump it or make any unexpected sound.

"Tamsin!" came the weak voice from the bed as he approached.

He placed the chair in front of him, behind the bed, and awkwardly shuffled around it to sit down next to her. "Hi, Rosemund."

Though she couldn't get much volume out of her throat, Rosemund managed to sound reproachful. "Don't you have dancing lessons now?"

He shifted in his seat. "Not when I have an ill friend who needs some company. Couldn't be helped, you see. Absolutely no other time that would work."

She chuckled.

"How are you feeling?"

"How do you think?" she said dryly. She looked pretty awful. Her normally-rich brown skin had a gray cast to it. Her golden eyes seemed dull, and drooped with fatigue; he knew it was hard for victims of the illness to sleep. She looked a little bit thinner than Thom remembered, though maybe that was just his imagination.

He sighed. "I see." Then he looked around furtively, and, seeing that the serving girl was occupied with her spinning, leaned in close to speak quietly to Rosemund. "Listen, this is important. I've been talking to Alanna. We think we might have a way to cure you. But it's dangerous."

Her eyes widened at the mention of Tamsin's... sibling, who she thought of as his brother Alan. She couldn't help feeling a spike of anger that Tamsin -- Thom -- had been talking to her brother about it instead of her. "How could you possibly have a way to do that?" She lowered her voice. "The best healers in the city have been working around the clock and haven't found anything."

"Yeah, but... they don't have the power we have, or the Trebond training," Thom said bluntly. "And, well, we don't know for sure that it would work. Just that it might. What do you think?"

"I think you need to tell me _exactly_ what you're planning before I can make any decision," she said firmly.

To her mild surprise, he nodded. "Of course." And he started to explain.

\---

Alanna sat on the stone floor of the hallway, curled up next to the oak door, her head between her knees.

She'd stood next to the door for about an hour, knocking intermittently, until finally the young serving-boy in the room opened the door and told her to go away for now. Then she'd stood leaning against the wall for a couple hours, and finally she was so tired that she had to sit down, and now she was almost but not quite asleep. She didn't want to fall asleep. It wasn't the time.

It was getting late, though. She'd seen several other pages pass by at the end of the hallway, going from dinner to their rooms to do their homework. She wondered if anyone would come and tell her to leave if she stayed much longer. It didn't really matter; she wouldn't.

The door finally opened again. It was King Roald.

The king looked much like his son, but older, larger, and more tired. He was an imposing man, with substantial muscle despite his age. It was clear that he had been a powerful knight in his time, not only from his frame, but also from the scars that crisscrossed his face, said to be from the first Tusaine War. He had the same boyish brown-black hair as his nephew Duke Roger, and his son Jonathan, and the same sapphire eyes. Today, he looked even more exhausted than usual; smaller, strangely hunched.

His eyes fell now on the red-haired page sitting in the hall, with some surprise. "Is that -- Alan of Trebond?" There weren't that many pages, especially of a house as powerful as Trebond, and Roald had made a point to learn their names as they arrived that year.

The page's head jerked up. "Wh -- I'm awake! Where's Jon-- Oh!" His eyes widened as he realized who he was speaking to. "Your Majesty!" He scrambled to his feet and bowed, almost toppling over in the process. "I'm terribly sorry. Er. I just came to see if Jonathan -- er, how Jonathan was doing. I didn't mean to impose. I'll just go now. Your Majesty, sir."

"That's quite all right, Alan," he allowed. "Prince Jonathan is sleeping now, but you should be able to visit him briefly tomorrow. The healers have been _very_ busy caring for him," he emphasized, "and I expect they still will be, but he would no doubt enjoy receiving visitors when there is time. Please do return here, _later._ "

"Yes, sir, your Majesty, sir. I'll go to my room now." The page bowed again, still awkward.

The king shook his head as he watched the boy leave. It was odd to see such devoted friendship from a boy several years younger than his son. Perhaps he was angling to become Jonathan's squire in a few years. He hoped the page was a good fighter; it would serve Jon well to have a skilled follower with such loyalty.

_Assuming Jon lives to have a squire._ He shook his head violently to expel the unbidden thought, and started walking quickly back to his own chambers. Jon would be fine. He would make sure of that, no matter what it took.


	11. Chapter 11

The next day, after her brief visit with Jonathan, Alanna went to see Mrs. Cooper.

As soon as the door below the snake and cross opened, she spoke. "What can I do to help?"

The older woman broke into a grin. "Oh, trust me, there's plenty." She ushered the girl in.

\---

The day she spent with Mrs. Cooper was one of the most difficult of her life, even counting the days she'd spent twelve hours in the practice yard sparring with other pages, or in the alley behind Mrs. Cooper's house with George and his friends. Becoming a knight wasn't easy -- she lost sleep more times than she could count to the chores, the homework, the studying and the practice -- but, she reckoned, being a healer was harder.

It was the endlessness of it all that got to her after a while, the unending nature of the suffering. The sick needed water, needed soft food, to be turned in their beds (in a few cases of older sufferers), the chores done, their fevers cooled, their pain relieved. Alanna felt a pride and satisfaction in using the training that Maude had given her; when a patient needed to be soothed, Mrs. Cooper would let her place her hand on theirs, gently, and push the power of her Gift down just the right channels to help ease their pain or get them to sleep. But when one was soothed, they would walk down the street to another who needed more help than the last. Healing them drained Alanna more than she expected.

It got to be late afternoon before Mrs. Cooper noticed the sound of Alanna's stomach rumbling; neither of them had eaten since morning. The healing woman finished helping their last patient, then dragged Alanna back to her home and fed her tea and sandwiches. The page tried to help her make the tea, and wash the dishes, but Mrs. Cooper pushed her back into a chair. She knew what it felt like to be working for so long you forgot how to do anything else, and for that matter, it was easier to care for herself when she had the pretext of caring for Alanna.

They finally sat down to eat and drink together, and Mrs. Cooper looked her over with approval.

"You did well today," she said. "Better than most apprentices I've had. Shame your vocation is hurting people; you have a talent for healing them, as well."

The page took a few seconds to respond as she devoured several bites of her sandwich. "I don't like using my Gift very much."

"You could have fooled me!" She shook her head in disbelief.

Alanna was shaking her head too. "I used to do it at the village a lot, when Maude taught us. But it's not really a part of myself that I like. It just feels so ... unfair. It's like cheating. Not satisfying the way that doing things with my own hands is."

Mrs. Cooper raised her eyebrow. "What, you think your talents at fighting are somehow more important than your talents at healing with your Gift?"

Alanna set down her sandwich for a moment. "I'm _not_ talented at fighting. That's the difference. It's hard work that got me to beat Ralon. I spent a long time getting better at it, and I'm _not_ a natural," she said fiercely. "Don't say it's just a 'talent'! Magic is different because it _does_ come easy to me. So it's not worth as much."

The old healer shook her head. "It may not be worth much to you, but your Gift was worth quite a bit to the people you helped today."

Alanna had no answer to that.

"But, it's true that you also used your hands quite a bit today," she conceded. "And that's important, too. I'm glad that you recognize that."

The page nodded, having returned to her furious sandwich consumption.

"Your brother came by here recently," she mentioned.

"Oh?" The page was surprised.

"He was talking about the Sweating Sickness. Finding a magical cause for it, something like that." The healing woman shrugged. "I told him we have enough causes for illness as it is. I don't think he really understands the nature of the human body well enough to judge a case like this."

Alanna frowned. Sandwich destroyed, she sipped her tea. "Did he say why he thought there might be a magical cause?"

"Some kind of bad feeling he had around the ill." She rolled her eyes. "It's not as if it's unusual to feel that way."

The page's violet eyes widened. "A bad feeling..." She jumped out of her chair and started to pace back and forth through the doorway of Mrs. Cooper's cramped kitchen. "That's right! I was getting one too! That's why I'm so drained! It feels like... It's... Oh!" She turned to face the older woman. "Oh my Goddess! I don't know why I didn't notice it before! He's right!"

Mrs. Cooper had pushed her chair away from the table and was leaning back, arms crossed. "You too, then?"

Alanna's eyes went dark and stormy (the vivid color changes of her eyes were always disconcerting to onlookers). "What do you mean?"

She waved a hand. "All this about magical causes... Why make up explanations for something that is perfectly well explained by the natural course of disease? I understand the impulse to find a cause, of course," she said gently, her patronizing tone pushing Alanna towards rage. "It would be wonderful if there were an easy fix. But I just don't see it happening. It's not consistent with--"

"So what you're saying," she interrupted, "is you won't listen because you don't understand. You wouldn't even let me finish what I was saying. My Gift has an interaction--"

"I'm sure it does," said the healer. "I think you should go get some rest, Alanna. It's late. Whatever ideas you have can wait until you've gotten some sleep and thought it over."

The page pressed her lips together until they turned white. "Fine," she said, not trusting herself to speak. "Good night, Mrs. Cooper."

She didn't bother to clear her dishes from the table, but walked out and slammed the door behind her.

\---

Thom was at his desk at his room in the temple, wearing only his shift, when the knock came. It was late; strictly speaking, he should have been asleep, but his research was more important today. He was surprised that anyone would be visiting him at this late hour.

Cautiously, he slipped a ball of violet mage light under the door and projected his voice from it. "Who is it?"

His sister's voice came back clearly, low and furious. "Alan. We need to talk."

"Alan?!" he yelped. "How are you here? Pages can't be in the temple at this hour, not with ... the girls here. You'll get in huge trouble if you're caught."

"That's not important right now. Besides, what am I going to do, take their innocence?" she whispered. "Don't worry. I came in girl clothes. If anyone asks, I'll tell them I'm you."

" _What?_ You can't--" Thom stopped himself from shouting just in time. "Fine. You'd better come in."

He opened the door, standing carefully behind it so he wouldn't be visible from the hallway. Better if no one were to see two Tamsins.

Alanna was dressed in ... something that could be described as "girl clothes" to the casual observer, which basically described his twin's attitude toward women's clothing perfectly. She was wearing a dress, but it was rumpled and tucked oddly under her sleeves and shift. Thom hoped no one had seen her and thought it was him; they would think he'd seriously dropped his standards of personal appearance.

"You know, the people here know me. They'd notice if you replaced me," he said reproachfully as he closed the door behind her. "You couldn't keep it going for very long."

"Oh, would they? Don't worry. I'm not much of an actor, but I can do 'arrogant and uncooperative' like nobody's business." She crossed her arms and lifted her nose in the air. "Why, hello, there, I'm Tamsin of Trebond, and how dare you speak to me. I'm on my way to do some very important research; you wouldn't understand. Don't ask me if we're friends, because I'm emotionally stunted and repressed from a lifetime of male socialization." She lowered her arms. "Honestly, Thom, I was planning to just stay quiet and nod if anyone spoke to me, and hope they weren't feeling chatty. Maybe zap them if they were. It wouldn't work for that long, but I could get by long enough to go to and from your room."

Thom was staring at her, face bright red, mouth open. Small sounds emitted from his throat.

Finally he picked his jaw up and swallowed. "Well, you're not wrong about the male socialization. I'm not sure you even understand how complex female society is."

Her mouth opened. She couldn't remember the last time Thom had deescalated after her teasing, and was suddenly worried that she'd misstepped. "I suppose not."

He sighed. "Well, I assume you didn't come here after curfew just to break me psychologically. What's going on?"

"It's the Sweating Sickness. Mrs. Cooper told me about what you said to her. Why didn't you tell me about this before, Thom? I care about this just as much as you do, maybe more."

He frowned as she spoke, and turned to sit on his bed. He'd been tired before she came in, and this conversation had just been one hammer blow after another so far. "I don't know. I suppose it didn't seem that important at the time."

"It didn't seem that--" Alanna gulped down a ball of rage. "People are _dying_ , Thom!"

"People are always dying," he said. "That doesn't make it my problem."

She gaped at him. "How can you say that? Who _raised_ you?"

"Maude and Coram and Alys, same as you," he shrugged. Their father had not been a particularly attentive parent. "Alanna, it's a hard world we live in. You can't solve every problem. I heard there's a plague in the Bazhir desert, but that doesn't mean I have to travel there and solve it."

"Yes, but we're not _in_ the Bazhir desert!"

"So?" he asked. "It's not like the difference between someone dying in the desert and someone dying here is that huge. They're not more or less important as people. It's sad, of course. But my duty to myself, to our heritage, and frankly, to Tortall is to study and become a sorcerer so I can make the world better in larger ways. It's not my job to solve every problem that comes within a ten-mile radius of me. That should be obvious." Her brother spoke as if he were stating simple facts with no possibility of disagreement. He didn't sound angry at her for misunderstanding, merely puzzled that she could even consider that he might be wrong.

She clenched her fists. "My. _Friend_. Is. Dying," she enunciated.

Thom saw the opening to make fun of her about Jonathan being her "friend," and decided on reflection that now was not the time. "Yes. Well, that's different. Of course it's important now that the crown prince has it."

"You--!" Alanna actually started to glow violet, a reflex that she had tried to repress ever since arriving at the palace.

"I mean, your friend Jonathan," Thom said hastily. "If it's important to you, then it's important to me." He studiously avoided saying anything about his own friend. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that it's not important now. I was just trying to explain why it wasn't..." He realized that this digression wasn't going to get him anywhere good. "Nevermind. Look, we've been over why I didn't tell you before. The important thing is what we're going to do about it now."

She stared at him, distrust still evident in her eyes. "I suppose so."

"It's Roger that's doing it," he said. "We have to stop him."

She nodded.

"I don't know how yet."

She nodded again.

"But I have an idea. And I think we need to test it out. I talked to Rosemund about it. Um, I was planning to do it by myself." He cleared his throat. "But I could use your support, if you're willing to help me."

She heaved a sigh. "Okay. Let's talk."

\---

Thom groaned all the way to Mrs. Cooper's, but he let Alanna drag him there all the same. "You need the practice with healing with your Gift," she said, "and I'm not about to let you start operating on our best friends without at least a few test runs on a smaller scale with other people." Plus, she thought privately, her brother really seemed like he could use some practice in caring for other people, on multiple levels.

The old healing woman was surprised to see Thom join his sister to help out with her rounds, but did her best not to comment. She wasn't one to look a Gift horse in the mouth, as it were. Things went faster with his help, although he was clumsy with most of the tasks -- turning patients, bringing them food, making them comfortable -- but Alanna was there to coach him through it, and their Gifts combined worked faster and drained each of them less.

The two siblings took turns with healing patients at first, then started working both on the same patient at the same time. It was difficult at first -- one sick man complained that the feelings of pain in his arms were strangely imbalanced -- but they start to work in tandem, feeling each other's Gift as another stream of power, until at last it felt like they were one will, amplified twofold.

The three returned to Mrs. Cooper's house in the evening, Mrs. Cooper giving them both sidelong glances. Finally, once they were inside, she let her curiosity get the best of her, since she'd already gotten the day's work out of the twins. "So tell me, Thom, what brought you here today?"

The twins glanced at each other and something unsaid passed between them. "I was working on improving my healing," he said truthfully. "Alanna convinced me that this would be a good learning opportunity."

She raised her eyebrows. "I see." Trust the little git to come up with a selfish reason for the most unselfish of acts.

"Thank you," he added, curtsying slightly. "For teaching us."

"And for healing all those people," Alanna said, elbowing him. He shrugged.

Somewhat appalled by his behavior, the old healing woman gave the children a few snacks and then bid them good night, in more of a rush than she would have if it were just Alanna.

They were up to something, but she honestly didn't want to know any more about it.


	12. Chapter 12

"Myles," Alanna asked after she made her first move, "can I ask you to do something for me?"

The older knight looked up at her. He almost said "Of course," then caught himself. "That depends. What is it?"

She cleared her throat, and scuffed her boots against the stone floor. "Er."

Myles made his move, watching her closely.

"Well," she said, as if the word was being dragged out of her on a fish hook. "I guess it's more of a favor to ask of, um, Duke Gareth, maybe. Or if... Well. See, my -- sister Tamsin and I are planning on -- That is, we've been helping one of the city healers." She picked up one of her pieces and moved it somewhat at random. "Because a village woman on the Trebond estate, her name was Maude, she taught us to heal when we were little, and we have a Gift for it, and I wanted to help out..."

He nodded encouragingly.

"And we want to try something, because we think we might be able to cure the Sweating Sickness," came her words in a rush. "But it's sort of, um, maybe a little bit dangerous, and I was wondering if maybe, um, we should get some, some, backup in case anything happens. I don't think anything will. But I would feel better if we had help." She was trembling a bit as she spoke. She hadn't told Thom about this. She knew he would be very angry with her when he found out, because he didn't trust Myles or anyone else with this, but she couldn't stand the thought that they might ruin everything just because they were (because Thom was) too stupid to get help.

His face grew very solemn as the explanation tumbled out. "That's an extraordinary claim, Alan."

She nodded, unable to speak.

"But that's why you are looking for help, isn't it?"

"Yes."

He hummed to himself for a moment, staring at the game board. He moved his bishop.

Then he said, "I'll talk to Duke Gareth. How soon were you planning to do this?"

"Tomorrow night," she said. "As soon as we can. We don't know how long she -- We don't know how long we have."

Myles caught the misplaced pronoun. "Were you planning on trying this out on a classmate of your sister Tamsin's?"

Reluctantly, she nodded. "Rosemund of Goldenlake. She's been ill for a while now. Um. Most people don't--" She stopped, unable to keep talking. "We think it had better be soon."

He acknowledged this with a grimace. "What about Jonathan?"

"Him too!" she said quickly. "Once we know for sure... um. Once we've helped Rosemund. If it does help. It probably will."

The older knight heaved a sigh. He suddenly felt a thousand years older, and had to fight to keep tears from his face. It was bad enough that he was close to losing some of his favorite students, bad enough that people were dropping like flies in Corus. But somehow, the fact that one of his youngest, most vulnerable students was fighting so hard to keep things together, that she was trying to cure this plague single-handed, that she couldn't even say the words "if Rosemund dies" but she was going to take the risk anyway... It was somehow more heartwrenching than the simple fact of death itself.

But he wasn't going to let it show, because now, he had to be there for her.

He leaned forward. "Alan," he said. "I'll talk to Duke Gareth about this. I don't know what he'll say. He might think this is a terrible idea. But," he said fiercely, "you're doing the right thing. Just say the word if there's anything more that I can do for you. I am behind you all the way, and I am proud of what you're trying to accomplish, even if it doesn't work out the way you hope."

She stared at him, violet eyes watering slightly. "Thank you... Myles."

He gestured to the game board. "Let's call this a draw, shall we? I have some things I need to attend to."

\---

The next day was fairly ordinary, except that Alanna and Thom were full of jitters for all of it.

Thom dropped needles, stabbed himself, and nearly tripped during Daughter Dureen's class. Alanna took more falls than she gave that day in the practice yards.

They had a dancing lesson in the late afternoon. Duke Roger was about as smug as usual. Thom found it harder to hide his hatred than he normally did; he almost had a major slip-up when Roger asked him to dance, and he almost startled away in revulsion before catching himself and saying "Sorry, I already have a partner for this one." He didn't, but managed to find one quickly enough to keep up a vague wrapper of plausibility around the lie.

Alanna, on the other hand, found herself dancing with Rowena, whose simpering brown eyes and limp grip made her uncomfortable. The girl almost seemed to be flirting with her. She asked Alanna all sorts of tiresome questions -- "Do you like Corus? What's it like being a page? It must be so difficult! What was it like when you fought Ralon?" -- and fluttered her eyelashes in a most irritating fashion. Alanna found herself feeling like she was full of pins and needles, itching to be anywhere but here -- but really, she wanted to be at the temple, preparing with Thom for the night ahead of them.

The twins half-ran out the door when dancing lessons were over, and walked together back to the temple.

It was time for her to come clean. Alanna said quietly, "Tamsin, I have something to tell you. Don't shout or act startled, we're in public."

He gave her a look. "So why are you telling me in public, then?"

"Because there isn't going to be any more time, and you'll find out soon enough anyway."

He stared straight ahead into the narrow street. "Fine."

"I asked Duke Gareth to come act as backup for us tonight."

She could see his face swell with the words he wanted to say but couldn't. He choked out, "Wh--" then gave up. It was visible, the moment when he decided there was no point even arguing, that he might as well just roll with this punch, because his sister could hit harder than he could. "When is he arriving?"

"Well, he's right behind us."

She hated to admit it, but she took a little satisfaction at the look on his face and the way he turned around immediately, despite his best judgment. She turned around with him, and turned her face upwards. They were gazing directly into the sea-blue eyes of Duke Gareth, who was following them at a short remove and obviously had been within earshot the entire time.

"Er," said Thom. "Hello, Your Grace." He bobbed a curtsy.

"Hello, Tamsin." He inclined his head. "Alan. Please, continue leading the way." His eyes sparkled with amusement.

\---

Finally it was time.

The two young noble twins entered the sickroom, accompanied by the duke. The serving-girl attending Rosemund rose, seeming almost affronted for a moment, until she saw Duke Gareth and swept a deep curtsy. "Your Grace, sir!"

He waved a hand. "Good evening. We're here to visit Rosemund, and to perform some healing on her."

"Yes, sir, your Grace, sir," stammered the girl, and stood carefully out of the way of the three of them while they gathered around the bed.

Thom held the others off with a hand for a moment, while he approached Rosemund, skirts whispering on the stone floor. "Rosemund?" he said quietly.

The heap of blankets shifted, and her face appeared out of it on the near side of the bed. "Tamsin," she whispered. "You're here." Then her eyes focused on the other two who had entered with him. "And... Alan? And..." She frowned, unable to place the man at first glance.

"That's Duke Gareth," he said, throwing his sister a dirty look. "He's here to watch over us while we heal you." He tried to smile, but didn't quite succeed.

"While you try to heal me," Rosemund corrected, still in a whisper.

His mouth twisted, but he didn't contradict her. There was no point in it; she understood the risks as well as he did. "That's why he's here. As a failsafe."

"All right. That's good, then," she said. "Do it."

\---

From the outside, it didn't look like much had changed.

The red-haired twins stood by the side of the bed in the small chamber, one with long hair and in a dress, the other with hair cut short and dressed in a tunic and trousers. They stood slightly apart, not touching each other, and closed their violet eyes as they touched the patient. Rosemund's dark skin was now a pallid gray shade; one of her arms lay above the covers, but the rest of her was buried in a mound of blankets.

The duke stood behind both of them, arms crossed; he was an older man, who nonetheless still looked powerful enough to break either of them in half if he so chose. His face was creased by a worried frown as he watched the two preteens place a hand each on Rosemund's arm.

But as they did so, he closed his eyes, and saw what happened from the inside, as they did.

Streams of purple fire came through each of their hands, and twined around inside Rosemund's body. He could hear a faint murmuring of their internal voices, saying things like "here?" and "what next?" The voices were too faint to make out clearly, but something was strange about them. It seemed as though they came from the wrong place, somehow, as if the male and female twin had changed places.

He was impressed at how practiced they seemed at mingling and amplifying their power together. They must have done this before, at least once.

The purple fire filled in the crevices of Rosemund's soul, soothing her, putting her to sleep, easing her pain. Eventually, it seemed, the twins reached the limits of what they could do together easily, and the purple fire traveled onward, more haltingly now. Their internal voices came more strongly now -- "here?" "No, here." "where?" "Push on this part." "Do you see it?"

Suddenly he saw what was dangerous about this plan. The twins were pushing closer and closer to the center of Rosemund's being, exploring carefully through every part of her soul.

Duke Gareth reached out mentally, pushing out a blue tendril of his Gift towards Alan and Tamsin's purple fire, but it was too late. He hardly got a chance to reach them before the shock happened.

As the purple fire reached the inner part of Rosemund's being, there was a ripple, a shock that ran through Gareth in every muscle of his body. He jerked involuntarily, staggered, then put a hand on the table to stabilize himself. The twins had contacted something - it flashed as they touched it - something strangely bright, and orange in his mind's eye, something that faded away as their purple fire bounced off of it. He tried to get a closer look, but it was gone, and the twins had pulled back their Gift so it was no longer visible.

He opened his eyes to see that Alan and Tamsin were standing extremely still. Tamsin had swept her arms behind her back and was staring at Rosemund in what seemed to be shock.

"Did it work?" Alan said finally.

Tamsin glared at him. "Of course not! Look at her!"

The page stared down at Rosemund. Her eyes were still closed. It seemed like maybe her skin had regained some of its color, but Alanna wasn't sure if that was just her imagination. It seemed that the girl had fallen into a deep sleep; she was breathing shallowly and regularly.

"I think," she said slowly, "we did something. I think maybe we helped a little bit, but not enough yet."

Thom pursed his lips and then, reluctantly, nodded. "I think you're right."

"I don't think we should try again tonight. I'm --" she swayed as she spoke. "I'm pretty drained."

"Me too," her brother admitted.

"Okay. Well, we've made progress, at least. It's a good thing we didn't have to use our backup." She glanced back at Duke Gareth and then noticed something: his face was white, and he was leaning back against the wall as if in shock. "Your Grace?"

Thom caught the note of worry in her voice and turned back to look at him as well.

"You..." he said. "You touched something in her. Something orange."

"Yes?" Thom said slowly.

The duke's lips set in a firm line. "I know what that means. _Roger,_ " he hissed.


	13. Chapter 13

Duke Gareth was a careful man. He thought before he acted, and acted exactly when he thought it was necessary. This was one of those times when a few minutes of thinking were all that could really be spared.

He told the twins to go to bed and not to follow him, which meant that they had to be careful to stay far back from the duke and keep out of sight.

He strode as quickly as he could to Myles's chambers at the palace, then the two of them made a quick stop by the quarters of Lord Sir Merek of Goldenlake. And then, finally, the twins were left behind as the three men jogged up the stairs of the west tower, where Duke Roger's quarters were. They had been hiding behind doorways and wandering the hallways as unobtrusively as possible, but now there was no way to follow the men without being seen. So the two had to content themselves with waiting to see what would happen once the men returned. Or, perhaps, didn't return.

Myles shook his head as he jogged alongside Gareth. "I should have believed Alan when he came to me with this. I knew Roger was reckless, but I never thought that it would come to this."

His companion nodded. "He's always been the black sheep of the family. I wanted to give him a second chance, but... I suppose I shouldn't have."

Sir Merek was silent as the other two spoke. The dark man's face was tight with barely-suppressed anger.

They finally reached the door at the top of the tower. Duke Gareth rapped on the door with the back of his knuckles. "Roger. We need to talk."

The door opened a few moments later, on Duke Roger in his dressing gown. "Why, Duke Gareth, it's --" He saw the other two standing behind him. "Sir Myles, Sir Merek. It's a pleasure to see both of you, though a bit of a surprise at this late hour. May I invite you in for some tea?"

"We're not here for beverages, Roger," said the other Duke brusquely. "You need to stop what you're doing. Right now. Don't ask me what I mean, because you know."

The grin on Roger's face slowly dropped away as Gareth spoke. "And why should I do that?" he said, his face carefully neutral.

"Because people are dying and you are _endangering our cause,_ you bloody idiot," Gareth half-shouted, then glanced behind him, as if embarrassed at the volume of his voice. He didn't notice the twinkle of purple mage light in the corner of the hallway.

"Why don't you come inside, so we can discuss this in more privacy," said Roger gallantly, composure recovered as quickly as if a breeze had blown through it.

Gareth narrowed his eyes, but stepped over the threshold, followed by Myles and Sir Merek. None of the three noticed the faint purple spark that drifted behind them, then abruptly winked out as it passed the doorway.

"Now," said Roger, once the door was shut. "Let's be more candid, now that we can speak freely. What exactly are you referring to that you're so upset about?"

Gareth folded his arms. "Why don't you tell me, instead, what you think it might be? Or are there so many things you're not telling us that you can't even take a guess at which one we've found out this time?"

"So mistrusting!" Roger stretched his arms out entreatingly. "I just want to clear up any misunderstandings by hearing your side of it first."

Gareth just stared at him unblinkingly. Roger stared back for a few seconds, then couldn't stand it any longer.

"Fine. What I'm _guessing_ you might have found out about is that I may have used my Gift to, let's say, help along a certain illness."

"You have _killed_ people," Duke Gareth spat. "This is completely unacceptable, Roger."

"Now, now," he said reproachfully. "Every war has a few casualties, doesn't it? Would you be so upset if I'd run them through with a sword? No? Then why be so upset now?"

"Yes, I damn well _would,_ you buffoon, because we're _not_ fighting a war," Gareth grated. "We're bringing grievances, but there's no reason this has to come to any actual violence, unless some _blithering fool_ starts it first. Such as yourself."

Roger's face grew serious for the first time since he'd entered the room. "I wouldn't be so sure of that if I were you, Gareth. Serious change requires serious intent. I doubt there's any way to truly avoid violence in a confrontation this extreme, and pretending otherwise is only fooling ourselves. Besides," his enigmatic half-smile returned, "I suspect Roald will find his son's illness more convincing than any number of pretty words, even if there are swords standing behind them."

Gareth balled his fists and took a step forward. "No."

The other duke raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"No," agreed Sir Merek. Myles nodded in mute assent. "You must cease."

"Oh, really? And why is that?"

Gareth was ready for this. He knew that the other duke had a way with words, and so he held to the simple line that he had fixed in his mind as he entered the room. "Your behavior is intolerable, Roger. If you don't stop your threats and violence now, they will be met in kind. You're hurting children, and if a _single one_ dies because of what you've done, I will _hunt you down._ " He stepped closer and closer to Roger, until he was almost shouting in the man's face.

"If you're going to threaten me with violence," the other duke said quietly, "you'd best not be bluffing."

\---

"Damn!" Thom pounded on his leg. His mage fire had gone out just as the three men entered Duke Roger's quarters. "He must have some powerful charms on his rooms to keep this spell out. I've used it at the convent lots of times and never gotten caught."

"As far as you know," Alanna replied. "What else can we do?"

"Well, I could leave one just outside the room..." Thom looked at his sister.

"Or we could go up," she suggested, just as he knew she would.

"No," he said, but without conviction. "... Fine. But let's wait a few minutes, until they're more settled in."

As they crept up the stairs, some minutes later, they heard shouts, and felt the stone stairs rumble under their feet. Faint flashes of light started reflecting from the upper hallway.

"You know, we don't need to be doing this," Thom whispered. "We can just go back down and let them sort it out."

"And leave Jonathan and Rosemund to their fates?" she retorted. "What if Duke Roger wins?"

"There's three of them," he pointed out. "And it's not our job to keep him under control."

Alanna looked at him, mystified. "What do you mean? If we don't do it, no one else will."

He sighed. They kept walking.

As they got close to the top of the stairs, they started to hear voices.

"Come on then, is that all you have?" It was Roger's voice, taunting. "If you think the good of the realm depends on this, surely you can try a little harder." The voice was filled with a derision that made Alanna shudder.

"Give it a rest, Roger." Alanna paled; it was Myles's voice. "We all know you're a crack hand at hurting people. If that's all you're good for, you needn't do it any further; it's not going to last you long."

"Oh really?" Roger said smugly. "I would say that in this case, Duke Gareth is the one who didn't last very long. Aaah--" His voice was cut off by a ringing clash of steel, followed by a crackle of thunder. "Now, then, we can't have that, Sir Merek. Swords are such inelegant weapons."

"Better that than underhanded sorcery," came an unfamiliar, hoarse voice. It must be Sir Merek -- Rosemund's father.

The twins looked at each other, panic starting to set in on their faces.

"I can't do this," Thom whispered.

"You have to," said Alanna with conviction. " _Myles_ is in there. We can't just let this happen."

"I think we can, actually!"

"Come on. Rosemund would never forgive you if she knew you left her father alone at a time like this."

"Why would she know?" Thom withered under Alanna's glare. "All right. But if we die, I'm going to tell the Goddess this was your fault, all right?"

When they burst into the room, the sight that greeted them was a dismal one.

Duke Roger was lounging on a padded chair in his dressing gown, showing hardly a bruise. Duke Gareth lay sprawled on the floor, his clothing in disarray. A dark-skinned man in light armor was half-upright, holding himself up with his sword as a cane, with a look on his face of grim determination. Sir Myles was pressed flat against the wall by the doorway.

"Stop right there, fiend," Alanna shouted.

Thom passed a hand over his brow. Well, if Duke Roger killed them now, he might not have to hear his sister say anything that stupid again. Then again, the duke didn't seem like the type to be merciful.

Then again, her words seemed to have a surprisingly powerful effect on Duke Roger. All three men still standing -- or half-standing -- glanced back at her in shock. The black-haired duke suddenly froze, eyes widening. "You!"

"I know what you've been doing," she said defiantly. "And you won't get away with it. Or this, either!" And with that, finally displaying an ounce of common sense, she shot him with a lightning bolt.

Of course, her being Alanna and not very practiced with her Gift, it was a pretty weak bolt that fizzled out halfway across the room. Fortunately, her loving brother was there to make her look less stupid, and he cracked a bolt directly at the duke's head. Roger slapped it away, but he grimaced with the effort. He must be pretty tired, Thom reasoned, since it was late and he'd been fighting with their other instructors for a while now. So maybe if they could get the jump on him... He started weaving another spell, carefully, while Alanna kept him talking.

Roger had switched from surprise back to his normal smug condescension. "Now, kids, there's no need to be so confrontational." He stood up, and took a few steps toward them. "I'm sure we can work this out. You wouldn't want anyone to get hurt -- well, any more," he smirked.

Alanna was standing in front of Thom as he concentrated. "I'm not going to _let_ you hurt anyone," she asserted.

"Protecting your sister? You know, that won't last very long if you keep trying to hurt me," said the duke, almost casual. "You can't stand in front of her forever."

"No, I can't." She shook her head. "But that's okay, because my sister can do _this._ " And she stepped aside.

With a flick of his wrists, Thom completed the spell, and a red gash appeared vertically across Duke Roger's forehead, continuing up under his hairline along his scalp. He screamed in sudden pain, and dropped to his knees, touching his face and gaping at the blood on his fingers.

Before anyone else could react, Sir Merek rushed at him and took a swipe at his head, knocking the duke backwards onto the floor and into unconsciousness before he could say or do anything else.

As soon as she saw that Roger was out solidly, Alanna lost no time; she dodged her brother and ran over to her teacher. "Myles, are you all right?"

He was shaking. He shook his head, then nodded. "Yes. He didn't..." He faltered, feeling bizarrely embarrassed at how his student was asking after him. "I'm fine, Alan. Duke Gareth, though, could use some attention," he inclined his head to point at his friend.

Her mouth dropped open. "Of course!" When she turned around, she found that Thom was already kneeling over the duke, eyes closed. "Tho-- Tamsin, is he okay?"

Myle's eyes widened a bit. From standing against the wall, he slowly slid to a sitting position on the floor, with a light _thump._

Tamsin opened her eyes and turned her face, staying in the same kneeling position. "He'll be fine. He was knocked unconscious, but I think it's all a temporary effect. You should make sure that he," he jerked his head at the _other_ fallen duke, "doesn't bleed out while I'm fixing this."

She blinked, then grew angry. "Why should I?"

Thom groaned with exasperation. "It's not our job to decide who lives or dies, Alan. I'm sure _King Roald_ would prefer to dole out justice himself rather than have us do it for him, don't you think?"

"She's right," Myles interjected.

Alanna crossed her arms, then let out a long breath. "All right. Let me see to Duke Gareth, and you handle Roger. I'm not as good at the _other_ spell you'll need as you are."

Her brother nodded silently and stood up to go to Roger.

"Wait." Sir Merek's voice was ragged. "Let me help you restrain him."

Tamsin shrugged. "If you want. It won't make much difference; he can break out of just about anything you would put on him."

"Not this," he said with a crooked smile, pulling out a piece of twine from some pocket in his armor. It looked like ordinary string, except that it had a gloss to it; it shone dimly in the half-lit room like the moon. "It has a special enchantment."

The girl's face rearranged itself into something like grudging respect. "All right, then," she allowed.

Meanwhile, across the room, Alanna was finishing up with Duke Gareth.

As she opened her eyes, Myles leaned down and tapped her on the shoulder. "Alan," he said urgently. "Your help is much appreciated, but I think the two of you should go. I don't think there's any way you can benefit from being part of..." he gestured vaguely. "This."

"Why?" she said, genuinely baffled. "We witnessed treasonous behavior, and helped stop Roger before he could do any more. We can just tell King Roald. He'd be glad that we helped, wouldn't he?"

Myles shook his head. "Not... I mean, yes, he would, but it's not exactly that simple." He glanced around nervously, fiddling with his shirt sleeves. "We... That is, the king has some reason to be... to think... I think it would be better for you if you weren't associated with myself or Gareth in this matter, that's all."

Understanding dawned on her face. "It's that thing, isn't it. That thing you were going to ask him about, and try to convince him of. Is that why Roger did all this?"

He struggled for words. "Well, er, he can be a bit... You never know exactly what it is that's motivating him... But I think so. Yes, I think that was his intention initially."

The page's violet irises turned dark, and the corners of her mouth turned down. She slowly reached down and turned Duke Gareth over by the shoulders, then concentrated for a moment. His eyes opened. "Yzl-- What's going on?" he demanded, sitting up suddenly.

"Roger is out cold," the page reported. "Tamsin and I heard the commotion up here and we came to help. I think we need to go see King Roald, sir. Your Grace."

The duke glanced over at Myles, who was frantically mouthing "no" and shaking his head silently, making shooing motions at the twins.

"Are you sure you want to do that, Alan?" he said gently. "We can just as well talk to King Roald without your help."

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'm very sure."

He shrugged. "Well, then. We have some things to report." He rose unsteadily to his feet.


	14. Chapter 14

The party crowded the hallways all the way to the king's wing of the palace. Sir Merek carried the unconscious Duke Roger slung over his shoulder, half-supported by Myles and Gareth behind and in front of him. The page and the noble girl trailed behind the adults, hands clasped behind their backs, trying to look obedient and nonthreatening.

When they arrived at the hallway to King Roald's room, the guard standing in front of it took one look at the men and pulled the sword out of its sheath at his hip. "What is going on here?" he demanded.

Duke Gareth said smoothly, "We're here to see His Majesty on a matter of utmost importance. His nephew the Duke," he jerked his head awkwardly backward, indicating the man whose leg was draped over his shoulder, "attacked us. We come to ask the king that he dispense justice immediately."

The guard shook his head. "I don't think so. You all come with me."

"Excuse me, _Henry,_ " said Duke Gareth, starting to get angry. The man turned around in shock. "Yes, I know your name. I taught your first year swordsmanship class. I'm the king's cousin by marriage, and I am telling you that this is an urgent matter of state. Now, you will go wake him up, or you will see what he says in the morning about your behavior and your treatment of his relations and _trusted advisor,_ the Duke of Naxen."

The man paled slightly, and caved in. "Uh-- I-- Yes, Your Grace."

\---

Thom woke up in the morning chafing and itchy, in an unfamiliar bed, still wearing his clothes from the day before. Then he remembered where he was, and wished he hadn't.

The king wasn't happy about being woken up in the middle of night to be bothered with matters of state. He ordered that all of them, the twins included, be put into holding cells until the matter could be resolved in the morning.

Of course, they were very nice holding cells for noble visitors -- Thom's, for instance, was a perfectly serviceable bedroom, larger than the one he had back at the temple, even -- but the important thing was that there was a bar across the door on the opposite side, and no easy way to dislodge it.

There was a rap at the door. "Mistress Tamsin?" a man's voice called. "Your breakfast is ready. You'll need to be up soon for the trial."

"All right," he croaked.

A pair of eyes appeared in a slit in the door, verified that Thom was across the room, then the door opened and a tray slipped inside. The door was slammed shut again half a moment later.

Groggily, he peeled himself out of bed and tried to get his bearings.

\---

Thom saw Alanna again as both twins trailed down the hallway, flanked by their respective guards. It seemed that the king was taking no chances with his security, even with children. He managed to make brief eye contact with his sister, rolling his eyes. She responded with a stern glare that meant "keep a lid on it, stupid."

He snorted. As if she was one to talk, after her little performance last night. But they would see what happened this morning. It was unlikely that they'd have much opportunity to speak, anyway; it wasn't as if the king especially needed the word of two kids when he had some of his most trusted knights as witness to the night's events.

They arrived in the throne room behind Duke Gareth, Myles, Sir Merek, and the men guarding the three of them. There seemed to be masses of them, forming a ring around the noblemen so that the twins could hardly catch a glimpse of them.

After the general shuffle of the mob surrounding Duke Gareth, Myles, and Sir Merek, the twins' steps into the cavernous room seemed to ring out with unnatural volume. Thom tried to straighten his rumpled dress; he was surprised he had even managed to sleep in this getup, and now he was self-conscious about his appearance in this most weighty of places. There was very little he could do about it, but it still made him anxious to be breaching etiquette by appearing so unkempt in the presence of the most important nobles in Tortall.

The king himself was seated on the throne across the room from them. King Roald was younger than his cousin Duke Gareth, and he had the same Conte blue-black hair and sapphire eyes as his nephew Roger. But unlike Roger's, his eyes and mouth were lined with cares and laughter, and now, his brow was creased with worry. Guards stood on either side of him. His wife's chair was empty; her health was erratic, and today seemed to be one of the many days when she did not join her husband in judgment.

Rows of benches lined the room, which they passed as they walked in; normally, Thom knew, these would be filled with people who came to witness the king's judgments, but today they were curiously empty. It seemed that visitors were not invited into the palace for this particular judgment.

Finally, they reached the last row of benches, which curved to be a radius of around ten feet from the throne at each point. The guards shepherded Thom and Alanna over to seats on the left-hand side, and the noblemen under guard were escorted to the right-hand side.

The last to enter under guard was Duke Roger. Alanna yelped out loud when she saw that he walked in, though surrounded by men with hands at their swords, without any handcuffs or encumbrances. His head was bandaged, and he walked along the aisle with a slow dignity, showing no sign of anger or fear. The page felt a stir of rage inside her. How _dare_ he act so calm when he was under judgment. How _dare_ he pretend that this wasn't all his fault. Just by looking at his face, she could almost hear the stream of lies that would come out of his mouth as soon as the king asked him to speak.

But King Roald didn't do that. Not yet. He waited for Roger to be seated, then narrowed his eyes slightly and said, "Sir Myles of Olau, come forward and tell me what happened last night."

Myles rose one bit at a time, sore and exhausted after what he had gone through. He slowly placed one foot after the other, followed by two men who kept their hands at their hilts, until he was standing in front of the king.

"Last night, Your Majesty," he began, "I was in my quarters, when Duke Gareth came to me pleading for aid. He said he had discovered evidence that Duke Roger was deliberately causing the Sweating Sickness by magic." A few audible gasps came from the assembled guards, the only ones who weren't already aware in the room. Except for King Roald, of course, who raised his eyebrows in surprise but stayed silent. "He asked me to come with him to confront Roger, and I acquiesced. We then--"

"Why did you go to Roger?" the king interrupted. "Why not come to me then?"

Myles nodded and rubbed his hands together. "I do not know why Duke Gareth asked me to come with him directly. Perhaps he intended to give Roger a chance to explain himself before bringing the matter to your attention, Your Majesty."

"He could just as well have explained himself to me directly," said Roald, eyes glittering. "All right. Continue."

"We asked Sir Merek to join us, and proceeded to Duke Roger's quarters. His Grace Duke Gareth demanded that Roger explain himself. Roger did not deny the charge, and said that his actions were for --" he swallowed, "-- the good of the realm."

The king leaned forward. "The good of the realm? Was that all that he said?"

Myles threw caution to the winds, not knowing what else to do. "He said he intended to demand concessions of you, Your Majesty, based on your son's illness. I am uncertain of the specifics, but he made it clear that he intended to use it as a threat against the throne."

There was a sharp intake of breath from those assembled, Duke Gareth, the twins, and Sir Merek included.

" _Really,_ " said King Roald. His sapphire eyes were hard. "This has been a very interesting account, Sir Myles." He jerked his head to the guards. "Return him to his seat."

The old knight walked back to his seat, flanked by his entourage.

"Duke Roger."

The king's nephew stretched into a standing position like a cat stretching its limbs, and came to face his uncle. Thom idly wondered how the man managed to look so poised, and his clothes so crisply fit, after he had spent the night in a cell.

"Give your account of last night."

Alanna suddenly winced, and saw Thom do the same out of the corner of her eye.

"I was in my quarters, nearly asleep," he intoned, "when Duke Gareth, Sir Myles, and Sir Merek demanded entry, saying it was a matter of the greatest urgency. Naturally, I allowed them in, and--"

"Excuse me, Your Majesty," Alanna interrupted.

The king's eyebrows fell into a frown as he turned his eyes in her direction. "Young man, you speak out of turn." The guard standing next to her gripped his sword hilt more tightly and regarded her balefully.

"Your Majesty, this is important to know about Duke Roger's testimony," she persisted.

Roald steepled his fingers. "What is it?"

"He is using a charm spell, Your Majesty. I can tell because his Gift interacts with mine, and it's painful to look at. If you look carefully with your own Gift --" she was pretty sure the king had to be a sorceror, it ran in families, and Jon was one, right? -- "you should be able to see it yourself. Sir, your Majesty, sir," she added belatedly.

The king's lips set in a frown. He turned to Duke Roger. "If this is true, cease," he said.

A half-smile appeared on Roger's lips. "Your Majesty, you don't believe this young man's nonsense, do you?"

"It's not enough this time, Roger," he said flatly. "I know you've done this before. It's not hard to believe."

His smile disappeared. "Fine."

"He didn't stop it, Your Majesty," Alanna spoke up.

King Roald fixed his eyes on the duke.

The man met his eyes, and stared back just as fixedly.

But the king was more resilient. After a long minute or so, a minute that seemed like an eternity, Roger turned his head aside and muttered disgustedly.

"He stopped."

Roald nodded, not taking his eyes off the duke. "Good."

Duke Roger heaved a long-suffering sigh, and began again. "As I said, I was in my quarters, when Duke Gareth and the others entered and made serious accusations against me. I was in no fit state to reply, having been rudely removed from my bed at a late hour, but did my best to explain that I had nothing to do with this purely _natural_ illness ravaging the city of Corus. Duke Gareth and the others refused to accept my reply, and began to attack me. I rebuffed their attempts, and unfortunately was forced to knock Gareth unconscious and bruise Sir Merek in my attempts to defend myself. Those two children --" he nodded at Alanna and Thom-- "arrived as I was doing so, and did _this._ " He touched the bandage on his forehead. "I have no idea what transpired after that. I can only assume that Gareth and Myles were attempting to pin these allegations on me as part of their own--"

"That will be all, Roger," the king cut him off. "Duke Gareth, come forward."

The guards reshuffled the men until Gareth was standing in front of the king.

Roald folded his arms. "Gareth. I've known you since we were boys. I would trust you with my life. Yet, the harm you've caused to my nephew troubles me greatly. Explain yourself."

"Your Majesty." Duke Gareth bowed his head, then glanced back at the twins. "Well... It began with these two children, Alan and Tamsin of Trebond. They are both talented sorcerers, and I'm told that they have trained in healing arts since they were small."

The king made a "get to the point" gesture, rotating his wrist in a circle.

"Under supervision, they have been healing those with the Sweating Sickness in the city," he plowed onward. "But they wanted to try a new type of healing on an ill person, in the hopes of actually curing the sickness, rather than just acting as a palliative. On behalf of his student Alan, Sir Myles asked me to watch over them and help in case they overextended themselves magically. As it turned out, there was no danger of that, but I discovered something else." He drew in a breath. "I watched with my inner sight as they worked on the patient, and I saw their Gift reacting with another. The other Gift was one that I recognized -- that of Duke Roger."

The king rubbed his lips. "How did you recognize it?"

"By its color, Your Majesty. It's a distinctive shade of orange."

"Could you identify it again?"

He nodded.

"Then you'll do so now."

"Your Majesty?" said the duke, alarmed.

"We will repeat the procedure," said King Roald, patiently, as if talking to a child. "But this time, I will be there to witness it." He turned to the two actual children in the room. "Alan and Tamsin of Trebond. You will perform this procedure again, on my son Jonathan. I trust it had no ill effects when you did it before?"

Alanna and Thom looked at each other then nodded vigorously. "Not that we know of, Your Majesty," Thom added conscientiously. "We haven't had a chance to, um, check in on the patient since last night."

"Who was it?"

"Rosemund of Goldenlake, Your Majesty."

Comprehension came to light in his eyes. "I see. That explains Sir Merek. You," he beckoned a guard to him. "Send a runner to look in on Rosemund of Goldenlake at the temple of the Mother Goddess. Verify that her condition is good."

The man nodded and exited in haste to perform the errand.

Roger suddenly spoke up. "Your Majesty, I believe this to be most ill-advised. We have no assurance that--"

"Be silent," Roald said calmly. The duke closed his mouth. "You will do as I ask. Now. Come stand before me, and summon mage-light."

"Your Majesty?"

"It's an elementary spell that we teach the pages," the king said, growing irritated. "Don't act stupid, Roger. It's not becoming."

Duke Roger's lips set in a thin line. He crossed to Roald in two long steps, flanked by guards, and held his cupped hands out.

A ball of light appeared in them, bright white.

"Your native Gift, Roger."

He scowled even more, but let his arms relax slightly. The ball shifted to glowing in a dusky orange, like a smoky sunset.

Roald nodded. "Very well. Escort these back to their cells. When the runner returns from the Temple, we will proceed to the crown prince's sickroom. You are dismissed."


	15. Chapter 15

Alanna was marched back to her room after the audience. She was waiting there for longer than she expected; it seemed the runner to the temple had been delayed. But eventually the door to her room opened, and the guard beckoned her out.

She fell in behind him and walked steadily along the hallway. As they turned into a larger hallway, she heard footsteps behind her and glanced back; it was Thom and Duke Gareth, and more guards. She could just barely catch sight of her brother and her teacher around the armored men trooping down the hallway.

They traced exactly the steps she expected to, since she had been this way before. Up one flight of stairs, take a right, take a left, then up another flight of stairs... Eventually they arrived at the oaken door she had sat in front of for hours, just a week or two ago. King Roald was waiting for them with his own entourage outside the door.

"Good," he said, "you're here. Wait outside."

He entered his son's room, and left the door mostly closed but open a crack. Through it, Alanna could just barely hear his voice, deep and gentle. If Jonathan responded, she couldn't make it out. A few moments later, he opened the door.

"Come in."

Thom walked forward to stand next to her, and they went in together.

She inhaled sharply when she saw Jonathan. His body was mostly hidden by a huge pile of blankets -- including several quilts of beautiful workmanship, Thom noticed -- but his arms lay limply on top of them. His face was pale, eyes closed, their sapphire brilliance winked out for now. His dark hair, usually so handsomely curled over his forehead, was sticky with sweat, spread over his face like a black spiderweb.

It was painful seeing him hurt like this. And more than that, a little part of herself, a part that she tried to squash down and ignore completely, found his appearance revolting, and wished she didn't have to look at him like this.

She squared her shoulders. It was time to see through what they'd promised to do, and she and Thom would do it, even if it got difficult.

Thom stood next to her, hands clasped behind his back. His thoughts were somewhere very different. He had asked the guard what they said about Rosemund, and the guard had said "She was well enough this morning, no worse, at least," and shrugged. As far as he was concerned, all of this song and dance with the king and Jonathan was another test run.

Well, that wasn't entirely true, since Alanna cared about what happened to Jonathan. He shifted his feet, and tried to care about what she wanted. It wouldn't do to see Alanna upset, certainly, so he would do what he could.

What would Roger do if they succeeded, though? Confess? Tighten the screws and threaten the king? He was an unknown, which made this whole problem frightening on another level. Thom felt confident that he and Alanna could cure the Sweating Sickness - it would be hard, but they were powerful, and if they worked at it carefully, they could break whatever spell it was. They could fix Jonathan and Rosemund, and anyone else they needed to.

But what good was it if the duke was just going to come back and threaten everything they cared about?

No, they would have to find a way to hurt him. Some way to make him pay beyond just making him look like a fool in front of the king, getting him caught -- Duke Roger needed to know that Alan and Tamsin of Trebond were not to be trifled with, and that anyone under their protection must not be harmed.

These thoughts ran through his head as he stepped forward next to his sister, daintily lifting his skirts above the stone floor, and placed a hand on the crown prince's arm.

The prince's skin felt strangely cool to the touch. Unlike a warm, healthy muscle, it felt weak and wobbly, almost gelatinous in texture. Thom noticed his sister shuddering as she touched it next to him.

Both twins closed their eyes.

\---

King Roald hadn't used his Gift in a long time.

When he was a boy, his magical skills had been somewhat lackluster. Though he had the Conte Gift, which was usually powerful and glowed with a deep blue fire, he couldn't seem to manage the subtleties of spellcrafting. It didn't interest him much, anyway; he preferred the straightforwardness of fighting with his hands and weapons. It was simpler. It made more sense.

He had thought, through most of his life, that he could find other people to handle the magical issues of Tortall for him when he became king. He would make the decisions, and leave the issues requiring more subtle skill to his most trusted advisors.

When his father passed away and he became king, he found that things were not so simple as he'd hoped. For one thing, trusted advisors were fewer and farther between than they had been in his imagination.

A member of his own family had been accused of threatening the life of his son. He wished he could say that he'd never seen this coming, but to be honest, it felt less surprising than it should, especially coming from Duke Roger. It wasn't as if royal families were usually that easy to trust, considering the politics involved. But he had always hoped, somehow, that things would be different for him. That he could have a family he loved and trusted, as other nobles did.

Now, as he placed the life of his son in the hands of two noble children he hardly knew, he felt a deep envy of them. They could trust each other so deeply that their Gift intermingled freely, never showing the slightest sign of reacting poorly. They took turns speaking, glancing at each other and communicating with some mysterious unspoken language.

The only person he had had a relationship like that with was his wife Lianne... but things had been different since her illness.

And there was Jonathan. His pride and joy, his hope for the future.

He had no trusted advisor to consult with today. Normally he relied on Duke Gareth; but today, he had to see for himself. There was no one else who could do it for him, and so his sight would have to be enough.

As the redheaded twins closed their eyes, he took a deep breath and closed his own.

\---

Duke Gareth was anxious, and felt there was no real way for this to end well for him.

He hoped that the twins would be able to save Jonathan, of course, and he felt some confidence in their abilities, after what had happened with Tamsin's friend at the temple. But Myles's comments to the king about Roger, and what he planned to threaten for with the Sweating Sickness, were going to cause more trouble than they were worth, when this was over.

Even assuming everything went well -- they saved Jonathan, the sickness ended, Roger was outed as the perpetrator, caught, and faced justice for his crimes -- eventually, the next time he had a conversation with King Roald, the subject would turn to what Myles had said.

And he would have to tell him that they had been in league with Roger. They had never intended for _this_ to happen, of course, but he and Myles, yes, had planned to make demands of the throne, demands which they would have to back up with credible threats. Threats of milder action than sickness and warfare, certainly -- trade embargoes to start with, perhaps -- and not ones they had hoped to have to use, but nonetheless.

He tried not to, but he couldn't help but feel a bit complicit in what was happening now to one of his teenage students, a distant cousin of his. Jonathan had become a pawn in games far beyond his imagination, and he was going to suffer the brunt of what had happened here, despite having no culpability in it whatsoever.

But here and now, all that Gareth could do was stay watchful, help the twins if he could and they needed it, and hope.

He closed his eyes.

\---

Alanna reached out with her Gift, tentatively at first, then more confidently as she saw the tendril of Thom's purple fire winding up Jonathan's arm. She twisted hers around his purple fire, and the strands fused.

Her magical vision sharpened and focused when her Gift merged with Thom's; he lent her some of his greater acuity when they worked together like this. She could see Jonathan in her mind's eye. It was nothing like his physical body, but a diffuse, bluish fog in his general shape, with sparks of blue light running through it. She couldn't see very far into it without extending the tendrils of her Gift deeper inside his soul.

Slowly, the twins advanced along the fog of Jonathan's being. Alanna suddenly noticed something out of the corner of her eye -- a dusky orange spark. She almost thought she had imagined it, then saw another one, moments later. "Tamsin," she whispered, through their link. "Did you see that?"

"Yes," came the quiet response. So it wasn't just her. Duke Roger was here. It wasn't obvious, and she would never have been able to see it with her own weak magical vision, but his magic was inside of Jonathan. Hurting him, draining him of strength. She was suddenly filled with rage that anyone could do such a thing, least of all Jonathan's own cousin.

"Let's burn him out," she whispered.

She increased the power running through her purple fire, in tandem with Thom. It brightened, overpowering the blue sparks. Alanna saw a single orange spark appear and vanish in a white-hot sizzle when it touched their Gift. _It was working!_

Out in the real world, Jonathan tossed and turned, jerking away from their hands. Alanna's eyes opened abruptly without her really intending to. They had been so close to-- then she turned her head. Thom was frozen, shaking a bit.

"Are you all right?" she asked, surprised and frightened to see him displaying so much emotion in front of other people.

He shook his head. "Fine." He spoke barely above a whisper, so that she could just about hear him from a foot away. "But I don't think we should do that again. I had a hard time controlling what you were doing, there."

The bottom dropped out of her stomach. "Oh," she said in a very small voice.

"Let's keep going," he said, glancing back at the king and the duke, who were watching them with apparent equanimity.

She nodded and reached out to touch Jonathan again.

This time, she was prepared for the orange sparks; although she was angry that they could be there, she knew it was pointlessly dangerous to try to eliminate every one.

This time, she was patient. Thom extended slowly towards the center of Jonathan's being, and she followed along the path that he set through the fog.

It got harder to move the deeper they went. Alanna got flashes of strange visions -- the voice of King Roald, Jonathan's father, and a woman's voice. Perhaps it was Jonathan's mother, who she'd never met.

Something was draining them, now, faster and faster, and she didn't think it was Jonathan. There was something here that didn't come from him.

At last, they hit what seemed to be a wall - it was as if the fog had formed itself into a seamless barrier.

"This is it," Thom whispered. "It's the same thing we saw with Rosemund. Roger left a barrier here, to keep healers out."

She nodded, then whispered back, "Let's do it."

This time, both of them increased the power to their purple fire, focusing it on the barrier. It got harder and harder to sustain, like holding a heavy weight above their heads and trying to keep it balanced while lifting it further and further into the air.

Suddenly there was a _pop!_ Almost anticlimactically, the barrier flared dusky orange, then disappeared, leaving a sucking vortex of power behind it.

They almost were drawn into the vortex, but a wreath of blue fire was suddenly there, surrounding them. _Duke Gareth._ It tightened around their purple tendrils, drawing them back out of the fog of Jonathan's soul and into daylight.

Thom opened his eyes muzzily, as if waking up from a deep sleep, blinking slowly and letting the light wash over him.

"Did it work?" he asked, knowing the answer before he spoke.

"I think so," Alanna said. "But we're not done yet." She gazed at Jonathan through sticky eyelids, with a kind of awe and fear at what they had done. He was stirring a little more than before now, but looked basically the same.

The twins felt a hand on their shoulders, and glanced up. Duke Gareth towered over them.

"You've done very well," he said gently. "I think all he needs now is ordinary magical healing. We can call one of the palace healers to do it, if the two of you are too drained."

"No," Alanna said immediately. Thom nodded a moment after she spoke.

"All right," he said, and stepped back.

\---

In his luxuriously appointed cell, Duke Roger paced back and forth. He thought he had done enough to keep himself from discovery, but he couldn't be sure. Those kids had a magical Gift that was _bizarrely_ strong. It was rare for him to find anyone with a talent even in the same ballpark as his - the gods were very unfair with their gifts, it seemed.

And now, the indignity of not being allowed in the same room as they worked -- it was clear that Roald no longer trusted him. This wouldn't do. But it seemed things had gone too far for him to fix, this time.

What could he do? If they managed to bring down the barrier again, they would see his Gift, and Roald would have his evidence. And there would be no way for him to weasel out of it. What would Roald do? The offense was serious enough to have him hanged, which meant he would have to be well away from the palace before it was time for that judgment to be passed. There wasn't much he could do, then, except perhaps try to control events from afar.

Now that was a thought. If he was going to be driven out of Corus, he might as well bring down his co-conspirators while he was at it.

A half-smile touched his lips.

"Excuse me," he called. "I'm very hungry. Could you please bring me something to eat?"

The man guarding his door peeked in, and, seeing nothing out of the ordinary but the nobleman standing there in a somewhat obsequious half-bow, called back "Certainly, Your Grace. I shall be but a moment."

As the man retreated down the hallway, Duke Roger wove his fingers together into a net of orange fire, which neatly sliced the grate on his window into small pieces that fell into the courtyard below.

\---

The rest of that day was a blur to Thom. He remembered that they finished healing Jonathan, using the same process they did on other patients, yet it seemed to work much better once they had broken down the calcified ring of Roger's magic left inside him. When they finished, the crown prince stirred, opened his eyes, and threw the blankets off of himself.

Thom remembered the look on Alanna's face when she stepped back from Jonathan's bed, wide-eyed, suddenly blushing to be in the prince's room while he was half-dressed. He had somehow turned from a _thing_ to a _person_ while they worked, and he felt that meant that everything had gone as they planned.

He remembered King Roald shaking his head, and the grim set to Duke Gareth's mouth as he patted their shoulders and said "Well done, Trebonds."

He remembered wanting nothing more than to leave, to go to the temple, to heal Rosemund, but somehow the words never made it out of his mouth and, through a combination of patient hands ushering him and his own treacherous legs, he ended up in a room at the palace, falling asleep before his head hit the pillow.

And he remembered what Prince Jonathan whispered to his sister, before they left the room, while only the two of them were in earshot. Just a few words, the last of which held more threat and more promise than almost any he could have spoken.

"Thank you... Alanna."


	16. Chapter 16

Thom woke up the next morning feeling more well rested than he had been in a long time. The morning light streamed into the room, and as he became aware of it, he realized that he didn't know where he was, then remembered where he was, then realized it must be quite late in the morning, and then panicked. Rosemund! They knew they could fix the sickness now, but they had to go back and do it for Rosemund!

He threw off the covers, and hunted around the room for his layers of dresses. As he finished tying and buttoning the last piece of fabric, a knock came at the door.

"Who is it?" he called, distracted.

"It's me, Tamsin."

He blinked, and paused with his hands still halfway through tying his overdress in place.

"One moment," he called back.

Slowly, he finished tying the tie and straightened out his skirt. He glanced at himself in a shiny silver pitcher that was sitting on the table, with the rest of what seemed to be an abandoned breakfast service, and combed his fingers anxiously through his hair.

Finally, he went to the door.

"Rosemund," he said solemnly. "You're up and about already? What happened?"

His friend stood in front of him. Her orange eyes were sparkling with joy, her hair neatly combed into the beautiful dark pouf that was typical for her, pinned with a yellow satin bow. She wore a dress of yellow brocade, which Thom hadn't seen her wear for months -- not since they had come to the palace from Mother of Mountains, in fact. And she was grinning.

Before he could react, she swept him into a crushing hug.

He stiffened awkwardly.

After a moment, she let go, and stepped back, still holding his hands in hers. "Tamsin! How glad I am to see you! And to have come here on my own two feet," she added. "I heard about what happened afterward, and Alan told me more about it. I can't believe you drove Roger out of the city! And everyone who had the sickness is well now, did you hear? They're dancing in the streets!"

Shock passed over Thom's expression several times as she spoke. "Drove out -- Roger is _gone?!_ " he sputtered. "What happened? How did he escape?"

She frowned. "By magic, it seems. The bars on his window were cut clean off, and no one knows how he got down from the fourth floor." She breathed in and her face lit up again. "But he's gone, and so is the sickness! Can you believe it? And just in time for the ball, too!"

"The--" Thom took a moment to process this, his expression becoming more dour by the moment. "So what you're telling me is, I cured you for nothing."

Rosemund laughed. She let go of his hands to spin around. "You cured me for the most _wonderful_ thing, at the most _wonderful_ time! I could k--" she cut off. "I'm so grateful to you. You _and_ your brother. He and I had a very good little talk, earlier this morning."

"Earlier this morning? How did he wake up before I did?" Thom complained. "We were both up and working late into the night!"

She shrugged. "Perhaps you were working harder."

He made a noncommittal grunt, which, Rosemund knew, was the closest to admitting defeat Thom would ever get. "What did you talk about, anyway?"

She smiled a knowing smile. "You, of course."

"Hmm." He looked down, toying with his hair.

"Come on," she said, pulling his hand. "Let's go see the others. Jon is up and about too, you know."

\---

Thom was a bit worried about what his sister and his best friend had been chatting about, but there wasn't too much for him to be worried about. He didn't have any embarrassing secrets, though he thought he did. All the most embarrassing things about him were written all over him.

When Rosemund came to the palace, she asked after Tamsin, and learned that she was still sleeping. So she asked where Alan's room was, and went there to talk with him.

She wasn't stupid. After a few moments of sitting opposite Alan and talking to the page about Tamsin/Thom, she could tell something was off, and decided to make a shot in the dark.

"Listen," she said. "I have to tell you something. I know the truth about Tamsin. Thom, that is. And... he told me about you, too."

"Me?" were the next words out of Alanna's mouth. "But no one's supposed to know I'm a girl!"

The other girl laughed. Thom and his twin were really pretty different, it seemed. "That's all right. I'm good at keeping secrets."

After that, she had to ask Alanna for her whole story. Why did she decide to become a knight? What was it like, living in a palace full of boys? Rosemund was surprised at how at peace Alanna seemed to be with her lot in life. The page was nervous about what would happen when she finally told everyone about her sex, of course, but she also seemed supremely confident in her abilities, and serene that her choice was absolutely right for her, despite the difficulties she told Rosemund about.

"You really never wonder about what would have happened if you'd gone to Mother of Mountains instead of Thom?"

"Wonder, no. I _know_ what would have happened," Alanna answered. "It would have been the worst thing that ever happened to me. My life up to that point was half awful, and it would have gone to being awful all the time. No offense," she added hastily. "I'm sure it's very nice for, er, most people."

Rosemund made a wiggling motion with her fingers. "It's all right. There are certainly some downsides. I wish dealing with girls were as simple as beating them up until they left you alone."

"I'm a girl!" Alanna protested. "I would leave you alone if you beat me up! Besides, isn't that more or less what you did to Rowena and Udara last year?"

"I guess it is," Rosemund admitted, looking at her feet. "That only sort of worked, though."

Alanna nodded. "Thom told me about it. He said you got three weeks of confinement to quarters, which is _ridiculous._ None of the teachers did anything to me when I beat Ralon; they knew I had to do it."

The other girl sighed. "That sounds nice. First Daughter Cunegund generally isn't very understanding about that sort of thing."

"Mm." Alanna decided to ask something she'd never really understood about Thom. "Is there anything about it you do like? I can't even imagine wanting to be ... a normal noble lady."

"Oh, there's lots that's interesting! The mathematics, for instance," Rosemund said. "Fief management is a complex topic, and I've been studying to learn how to improve the economics of farms and villages. Having more advanced planting techniques has spillover effects into the rest of the economy by allowing for more leisure time. And..." She saw that Alanna's eyes were glazing over. "It's very useful," she said lamely. "And besides that, I enjoy textile work. It's relaxing."

There was a short silence.

"So," said Alanna with false casualness, "what are your intentions toward my brother?"

Rosemund's face turned a dark beet red. "Wh-- I-- What are you talking about? What intentions?"

"That's what I'm asking you," she said, leaning over and poking the other girl in the ribs. "What _are_ your intentions?"

"Well, I..." She twisted her hands in her lap. "We're friends."

Alanna rolled her hand over in a "go on" motion.

"And... and... I suppose I like him... but I don't know if... We're only thirteen, after all. And it's not as if anyone could know about it. Or as if..." She lost her train of thought. "There's no point in thinking about it, really," she finished. "I don't have any intentions until we've graduated, at the very least, and who knows what could happen by then."

The page looked down at her lap and held her hands very still. "You're right," she mumbled. "You're absolutely right."

Rosemund cocked her head, trying to get a look at the other girl's face. "Of course I am," she said, "but you're not thinking about Thom anymore, are you?"

She shook her head. "That obvious?"

"Hey... It's not going to be that long before you become a squire, and then a knight. You can wait a little while, can't you?"

Alanna finally looked up at her. "I can't wait that long. Jon is the crown prince; he's going to have girls crawling all over him before long. There's a _ball_ tomorrow, for goodness' sakes! I don't know what could happen, and he's only just found out I'm a girl yesterday!" Her hands flew to her mouth, shocked at herself for giving so much away to this girl she barely knew.

"Oh, my." Rosemund sat back and crossed her arms. "Oh, dear. Well, we can't have that, can we? What year is Jonathan?"

"Four years higher than me. He's going to become a knight when I become a squire. And he'll go off somewhere to defend the realm, and I'll go somewhere else, and I might never see him again when that happens," she moaned.

"Not at all!" The other girl wagged a finger. "All you have to do is convince him that _you_ should be his squire."

Alanna was taken aback. "I-- I suppose that might work," she admitted.

"Didn't you say you're one of the best pages in your year? Just keep it up, and stay friends with him, and..."

"And make sure no one ever finds out about us," the page finished. She was smiling. "You know, that just might work. Thank you, Rosemund."

"I try!" Reflecting her smile, the other girl stood up. "Come on. Let's go find your brother. And see Prince Jonathan, too! When I came in, the guard told me that he was up and looking well."

" _Really?_ " Alanna shot out of her seat.

\---

The ball was held at the palace the next day, and it wasn't just a party for nobles; there was also a feast for the common people of Corus held outside the gates of the palace. People were laughing, weeping, grateful for what they had and what hadn't been taken from them.

Alanna and Thom, though, were inside, part of the flocks of noble teenagers attending the ball. It wasn't exactly what either of them wanted, but it would have to do.

Inside the palace, up the grand staircase, the ballroom was filled with golden light and dozens of nobles of all ages. Men wore carefully tailored tunics in silks and linen of varied colors; women wore bright dresses of brocade, so colorful that they reflected faint red and blue and green light onto every polished surface in the room.

The dance floor was moderately well populated; older adults, mostly, did waltzes and gavottes to the sound of violin and piano from the musicians in the opposite side of the room.

For the most part, the teenagers lined the dance floor, talking to their friends and giggling, throwing hesitant glances at the other side of the room.

Except Alanna and Thom, that is. The twins, both out of their element, stayed mostly silent, feeling awkward as the girls and boys around them chatted and pointed out the most attractive features of the other people in the room. Their eyes met across the room in silent understanding: _This sucks._

But the two of them got a surprise that interrupted their wallowing.

The trumpet player blasted a few notes, and King Roald walked out into the middle of the floor, clearing it of dancers and onlookers with remarkable speed. The room grew quiet as he spoke.

"Good evening, lords and ladies.

"The great tragedy that struck our city, the Sweating Sickness, has ended. It is a great joy for Tortall to see the back of it, and a great sorrow that we lost friends to this curse."

He bowed his head in silence for a moment, then continued.

"But this curse was not merely bad luck. It was caused by the malicious action of my own nephew, the former Duke, Roger of Conte."

Shocked murmurs rippled across the room.

"By my order, Roger of Conte is to be apprehended by any citizen of Tortall who sees him," he continued, "and returned to Corus to carry out his sentence. Or, if capture is not possible, I would be most pleased if I were to be brought his head." His eyes were grim.

"One last thing. I would like to offer my personal commendation to two promising young people who were instrumental in the discovery of Roger's treachery.

"Alan and Tamsin of Trebond, please come forward."

The twins stared at each other across the room, then stepped out from their groups into the center of the floor, where the king waited for them.

"Through their actions, this page and this young lady have shown great talent, and also great loyalty to myself, to Prince Jonathan, and Tortall." From a pocket, he drew out two small silver pins, and knelt down. "I give each of you this token of my appreciation. You may ask a boon from me at need. Tortall thanks you for your brave actions."

Alanna carefully took the pin in her hands. It was in the shape of crossed swords over a crown; the Conte crest. She bowed, and next to her, Thom curtsied deeply. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

Applause began slowly, then echoed riotously around the room as the two walked back to the edge of the dance floor.

"Now, enjoy the party!" shouted King Roald over the noise.

There was a tap on Alanna's shoulder. She twisted around. "Jonathan!"

"Hi there," he smiled. "I don't much feel like dancing. Care to go sit in the corner and discuss these fripperies in peace?"

She beamed. "I can't think of anything I'd rather do."

\---

Left alone for a few moments, Thom felt lost in the crowd. People stopped to smile at him, to congratulate him, but he had no one to really talk to, it seemed.

Until Rosemund pushed her way through the throng to where he was standing. "Tamsin! Congratulations!"

"Rosemund!" He was grateful to see her, despite himself. "Where were you? I got an award!" He pulled the pin away from his bodice so she could see the gleaming silver.

"I saw," she grinned. "You deserved it. Listen, let me ask you something. You learned to dance when you were young, didn't you?"

A glint of suspicion appeared in his eye. "I did... why do you ask?"

"It's not too odd for two girls to dance together, is it? If one of them knows the man's part?"

He blushed furiously. "Why would... I mean... Are you asking me to dance?"

She stepped closer, until he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes. "Yes, Tamsin of Trebond, I am," she murmured. "Will you dance with me?"

Time stopped.

After what seemed like an eternity, he found words. "I suppose I could do that... if you think you can handle my lead, that is. I won't go easy on you," he warned.

She laughed, and pulled him onto the floor.


End file.
